The master of disguise
by Oliver Grey
Summary: A contemporary story of Erik and Christine. And by saying contemporary, I mean not only the time, but the problems they are going to face. I corrected the story and added '"' for better reading.
1. Chapter 1

1

The man was looking at the dog at his feet. It was a shabby looking, small dog with hungry eyes, locked on the hotdog. The man smiled, and tossed a chunk at the dog which it ate in a flash. Going for a second chunk the man spotted an observer. A girl, 15 or 16 years of age, very slim who seemed even taller because of that. She was looking at the dog and smiling pleasantly. Half hidden behind a door, the girl appeared nervous, even frightened to the man. It was 8 PM in November and all he could see were dark eyes and curly brown hair. And very unfit clothing, which made his brows collide. The jacket she wore was appropriate for the midst of spring at most.

There was fear in her eyes as she turned to him and saw him frowning. He eased his face tried a smile and handed the chunk to the girl.

"You wonna try it for yourself ?"

She smiled shyly, took the piece and threw it to the dog. It followed the first one with an equivalent speed, which made her grin even wider. She stared at the hotdog in the man's hand with a look, alarmingly similar to the one on dog's face.

"Look, I don't want any of it. Do you like hotdog?"

She looked hesitantly at him, nodded and took the food from his outstretched hand. She began eating and came from behind the door she was sticking to, up till now. The man was once again shocked by the way the girl was dressed. And she did look like a skeleton with a skin upon it. He had never before seen anybody that thin. And the girl was obviously hungry. As she finished the food he pointed behind his back.

"I can get you another one if you want. Just behind the corner..."

He never had the chance to finish, because she shook her head and run deep into the nearest alley. His instinct was to pursue, to follow her in the dark street but he silenced it and continued his way home. Every night he was passing by this place after leaving work, and he knew he was going to see her again. Soon.

The next day, he was hanging around the same place, he met her before. It was even colder tonight, and the weather forecast for tomorrow was even nastier. He couldn't stop thinking if she was going to wear the same clothes as yesterday.

The girl was watching him form behind the door. He was the same man from the previous night and he was different from the others. Many men have tried to speak to her recently, but she could see in their eyes they wanted something from her. Something she was not sure what, something she was sure was wrong. They had asked questions, a lot of questions. Actually, he had asked a question as well, but it was another thing. He was tall and slim and his eyes were dark with circles around them. He seemed annoyed. And yet, he gave her his hotdog.

Now the man was standing with two hotdogs and he was looking around for something. May be he was searching for the small doggie. Or not. For somebody? He looked as if he was going to stay there all night. But she was running out of time. She looked up to the wall clock on the tall building across the street and listened to her empty stomach. It was a tasty hotdog indeed.

The man saw her coming forth and turned to face her.

"I saw you eat the hotdog with an amazing speed last night, and I was wondering if you can eat a whole one that fast too. Will you honor my curiosity?"

He saw an understanding in her eyes as she got the food from him and took a bite. She wasn't stupid. They ate in silence for a while. She began to feel more comfortable and suddenly it was not that cold anymore. The warm food filled her with more than physical comfort. The clock said she was already late, but she felt she could not go without saying a word. It would be rude. The girl looked at the man and got him staring at her eyes. His, were full of pain. In an instant he gathered himself and tried to say something but she was quicker.

"I had to go. Thanks. And, Christine... my name is Christine."

She turned away and run all the way home, never failing to see the faint smile that crossed his face as he heard her name.

The man with his half eaten hotdog lost his smile the moment she was gone. This time he had noticed her jeans with too many stitches to be fashionable and a pair of sneakers good for an inside running, not for jogging in the snow. And she was beautiful. Even dressed like that he was sure she was acknowledged by the men passing nearby. It was becoming imperative for him to get her out of the streets immediately. He knew by experience he had no chance with her but for once he made himself forget completely about his loneliness, and think only for her. For Christine. He smiled to himself. What a strange coincidence. He was going to talk to her tomorrow, no matter the consequences. How did she manage to avoid problems till now? Or did she? On that thought he felt pain and anger in his guts. How was, that he had never seen her before. She obviously lived somewhere nearby. Christine had a plain fear in her eyes even when smiling. Fear and sadness. She was not only cold and hungry. She was really unhappy. The man vow to himself he would do anything to change the situation. And he meant it.

The next evening he was waiting for her on the same place with a pizza and was looking worried. Christine liked pizza but she knew it was wrong to take food from a stranger more than once, and she had already bypassed this rule for him. He even tried to call her. Why did she tell him that? He wasn't asking for her name. All the others had asked. He did not. It was a strange feeling in her belly. And why did he look that worried tonight. Maybe he had a bad day at work. Christine knew that if that was the case he wasn't looking for her to take it on. She knew he would hide it deep the moment she stepped in his sight. And she wanted to look at him a little more before that.

The man was so focused on his thoughts, it took him a moment before he realized she had come out. He handed the pizza to her but she shook her head and stepped back.

"I can't. It is not right. I can't take anything from you again."

He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded.

"OK. I will put it here, and you can decide if you want it or not, after I am gone. But now I must speak to you for a minute.

Quickly, she took a step back. She never liked it when they started to talk too much. He moved towards her. She wanted to run but she could not. She was petrified by his gaze as if he had turn her feet into stone blocks. He came closer, until there was only a step between them. Christine had to turn her face up to look into his menacing eyes. They were the same brown color as hers. He began to talk quietly.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you, to stay here alone in the dark? You are a pretty girl, Christine and I bet, I am not the only one to think that way. You should stay home at night and go out in daylight. Or at least, take someone with you when you get out in the dark. I" - he hesitated and for the first time looked away from her. - "I don't want anything bad to happen to you because you are too unsuspicious. I will leave you now, but please, Christine, please at least think about that. OK?"

His eyes were not menacing anymore, they were pleading. Christine nodded silently as he stepped back and disappeared into the darkness. She took in a deep breath, confused. She was terrified by the way that man had gone from nice and calm to threatening and passionate in a second. He did scared her quite a bit, but now she was convinced he did it on purpose, to get her full attention. Christine wasn't stupid though she knew not much of the world. She was told never to trust a stranger and she believed it was the right thing to do. But her instinct told her, it was safe to take the pizza from that particular stranger, and more.

He had warned her, but Christine felt his warning as halfheartedly given. It was a rebus. Now she took the pizza and started home without a look to the wall clock this time.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Today, he was not very productive at work. In fact, he barely hid his annoyance, when the others tried to involve him in a new task, though he knew it was planned for, months before. He was irritated by his own inability to collect himself, after the last night talk with Christine. Part of him wanted never to see her again, to find proof she was staying home at night, where it was warm and safe for her. Another part was too impatient to finish work and to see her at the same place tonight.

He was furious, for the second part was the greater one.

Furious and ashamed. He had recognized his own loneliness in her eyes. These eyes so unbelievably alike his in every meaning. He could read her mind through those eyes, as clearly as if written on a paper. For a tenth time he wondered what was her family like, to let her out alone at that time. Or was she like most teens, not telling the truth to her parents. He had realized she was leaving every day exactly at 8:10 PM, that she was using the bank clock, to check for the time. He was careful not to show his observations. And how relieved he felt, when she took the pizza before leaving last night.

He wanted to believe she had taken a note of his words, that he would not find her there. But either way, he had to go and check. So instead of standing on the street this time he hid himself not far away and waited.

The man stood there for almost two hours and when the clock struck 9 PM he knew the answer.

He wanted to feel relieved, for she was off the streets and safe somewhere. He tried to imagine her happy, making dinner with her mother, or just merrily chattering with her in the warmth of their home. He kept telling himself this, as pain and desperation gained power in his chest. He haven't realized, he wanted to see her so much. The feeling of loss was so unexpected after just three brief meetings. It came to remind him of the emptiness in his soul. He had completely forgotten about it for the last few days and now it had returned with a triumph, and claimed ownership over his heart and soul once again. It was the familiar feeling of echo in a cavern for his soul was hollow, and pain and disappointment were its only residents. The last 20 years had brought him nothing but sadness and anger. And so much hate. The thoughts of Christine had erased the hate from his daily schedule. Now, while he was looking at the couples on the street, he felt hate flourish like a deceptively beautiful, deadly flower. For he was alone and knew he would remain that way. As every freak should. A freak unable to make his own family see behind the monstrosity of his existence. The last 10 years had proven him right in every sense. Right and lonely. He sighed deeply and went home where his dog and his piano were. He would play during the night, his work and mates be damned.

Hidden behind her door, Christine saw him come and hide. Why did he do that?. She knew he was right, about everything. After he had shown her, how easily he could corner her in the dark entrance she was using for a hiding place, Christine was convinced she should be more careful. With everybody. She was afraid that one day, she might not be so lucky. With the strangers on the street.

With her father as well. Christine knew, he would eventually find out she was sneaking out of the house during his favorite TV show. He would be furious about it and hit her. Maybe even in the face. He did that before, and it was ugly and painful and lasted more than a week. But she couldn't help it. After a month of looking and exploring, she had learned a lot about people and other things. And she discovered that shop full of rings with sparkling stones and necklaces and other shiny stuff, and once she saw a man buying earrings for a lady. And she looked quite happy, just like in the movies. Christine imagined herself in the shop in that lady's place. It was so wonderful. Christine knew, from the movies, that she had to find a man first. Then everything would be fine. But she didn't know how to pick him out. And there was something more, something scary about men, so scary her father always covered her eyes to protect her. But she had seen happy women with their men, so it can not be that bad. Probably it would not be as bad as that other thing. Then Christine thought about the tall man with brown eyes, and once again asked herself why he was hiding from her. She stayed in her place and waited for him to come out, wondering what it would be like to be with him, for instance. She would have to clean the house, to do laundry and cook lunch for certain. But she was doing these things now, already. May be, he would not forget to bring her dinner, like her father so often did. Christine knew her daddy was quite absent-minded and it was not his fault. She smiled to herself. Christine decided she was going to ask the tall man a few questions and then to decide if he would do.

All of a sudden, he went out of his hiding place and started walking towards her. When he came near, she saw his face and it frightened her more than anything before in her life. Like a walking nightmare he was dead pale, his eyes sunken deep and looking completely black. His hands deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. He was a picture of pain and desperation. Nothing remained from the strong, reserved but friendly gentleman from the previous night. This man was completely broken. Christine was staring with wide eyes, almost unable to breathe. His pain was captured in her eyes and slowly going to her heart. Oh, my God! What happened to him? Had his mother died? Christine had felt something similar, when her mother died after the car crash. She was seven, and she had experienced the pain through her father's eyes full with tears, his sobs and curses. She had felt the loneliness digging its strong roots in the heart of her daddy, changing him irreversibly.

Her dad. Christine looked at the clock, and realized she was in a much deeper trouble now. After the man passed her by, she came out and run, as if against the time itself.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi!

This is the third part, and I am doubtful about posting the next. I will like any feedback. As I am not a native speaker my English sounds odd sometimes. Just let me know.

Best Regards

* * *

3

The next day was as cold as possible, and he seriously considered taking a cab from work to home. There was nobody to meet him on his way back, so why not. After two sleepless nights he felt almost delusional, and knew he should not listen to his inner voices before reaching his house. They were talking to him, to sit on a street bench and look at the stars until dawn. He knew they were right, and someday he would just follow the instructions, but not tonight. The man decided against the cab, and convinced himself he was going to pick out a new route, to avoid the damned place. For now he just kept walking in the snowy evening, listening to the crispy ice under his feet. Deep in thought, he never noticed how he reached his meeting point with Christine. He halted and looked hopelessly at the old building.

There was, however a figure in the darkness but it was wearing a sweater with a giant hood. The man approached, and when she stepped outside of the shadows, he recognized the slender body of the "hotdog" girl. Anger and worry fought in him, as he gather courage to come closer. She was standing just outside the door, looking down.

"Christine? "

She lifted her face but it was hidden in the depth of the hood. He saw one sparkling eye. Too sparkling. He steadied his heart and lifted a hand to remove the hood.

The man didn't believe his eyes. He knew it was the lack of sleep, that played this cruel joke, bringing to life his worst nightmares. Like Thomas, he slightly touched her face and when she withdrew with pain he realized it was real.

The girl was brutally beaten. Half her face was blue and bloated. He stared there for a moment, before looking into her eyes.

Christine wasn't sure what she wanted. She was in so much pain, it hardly mattered anymore. She waited for him to do something. She had come here determined to say yes to the first man who would ask anything of her. Just to take her away. Anywhere would be better than home. She had never seen her dad like that. It seemed, he would never stop. Though, it was not until he threatened to lock her in for a month, when she grabbed a hooded sweater and run off to the street. It was early in the morning, and her racing adrenalin made it for the superstore in the vicinity of the neighborhood. There, she locked herself in a cell in the ladies' room and stood in till noon. Christine knew she could not go back. Not for a while as least. The girl was in pain and hungry, with no money to buy food. Her instinct told her to keep the face hidden and to stay away from the policemen. Still in shock, her brain recreated beautiful memories from the past. She saw the lovely lady with the earrings again, and the decision to come out tonight looked like the only option available. This time she would do it for a different reason. Christine knew there will be men out there. She might get lucky and come across a nice guy.

Though, she never expected to see HIM after last night.

The girl tried to speak, but no words came out. She was so cold, after staying in the freezing entrance for several hours. Christine had an unclear feeling of something running down her back from time to time. She opened her mouth again and closed it wordless. She looked at him for a hint but he stood before her, dead silent his face cold and emotionless as if he was looking at the wall behind her.

It took a millennium for him to get back to reality. It was getting colder and Christine was shaking convulsively. Who had done this to her? The man looked in the girl's eyes and saw them getting apathetic. He had lost so much time.

"Christine, stay here. OK? I will be back in a minute. "

He run towards the street, praying to the devil to send him the most greedy cab driver, but fast. He stopped a car almost immediately, and went back to the alley. She was there, motionless like an roman obelisk.

Christine had no power left, she just stood there never realizing what he had said. He was gone. It was over. She closed her eyes, obediently awaiting death to carry her to where her mother was. Instead, she was lifted gently, carried away and put in a warmer place. As minutes went on, she felt life getting back into her body and she sensed the man sitting close to her talking to someone.

It felt good. She was in a car and it was heading somewhere. Christine smiled to herself. She had succeeded.

Soon, the cozy environment and her relaxing muscles, awoke the pain and made it grand. Yet, she was still unable to cry. Every bump on the road felt like a blow.

The girl began to groan. He studied his embrace, unsure if he was holding her too tight. He listened to her for a minute, then told the driver to slow down, and to drive more carefully. The moans became weaker and she fell asleep. The man watched her, then slowly took one hand in his own. It was cold and bony. In the dim light he couldn't see much, but touching her nails he felt them uneven and broken. She had been working a lot with those hands, to become like this. May be Christine was working in a cafe, and was washing the dishes. Unlikely, because she wouldn't be so hungry in that case. The girl kept shivering from time to time even in her sleep. The man was trying his very best to put fury away for the moment. The uncontrollable rage he felt, was not that deep beneath the surface. He was going blind, if for a mere second, because of it. He would find them and make them pay and then, pay again for what they did.

But now, he had to think of Christine. If her face looked so bad, what about the rest of her body? He will have to examine her right away. She would be scared, he knew, but there was a possibility for internal injures he could not ignore. If there was the slightest doubt of such, he would take her to a hospital. But only if. Once in a hospital, she would be taken by social services, and he might never see her again.

The cab stopped. He ordered the driver to wait and went to open the doors in his house. Christine woke up when he left, and found herself alone in the car. She never had the time to get scared, for the man returned and bent through the door facing her.

"The snow is too deep, for you to walk in, with those sneakers. Come, I will carry you inside.

He payed the driver, lifted Christine and went with her to the house.

She was sleepy from the ride, and didn't notice how he carried her through the front door and up to the attic. The man put her on a large bed and began to remove her shoes. That woke her up completely, and she thought he was going to do the unknown, awful thing to her now. That frightened her a little, but Christine was so tired, she had no will to fight or argue with him. Lets do it, and move on.

Much to her surprise, he just took her wet sneakers, put them near an old coal-burning stove and went out of the room. The girl was left somewhat relieved but even weaker, for the emotions had burned out her last scraps of energy. She lay herself down on the bed and began to grow sleepy again. She never felt, how he wrapped her up in a thick woolen blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

The man used his time to light the stove up and to warm some soup, from the previous night. He cursed himself for being totally unprepared for the situation. His house was empty, except for the room he inhabited now, and the kitchen downstairs. It was quite enough for a single man. As the attic grew warmer, he sat near the bed and watched the sleeping girl. A child. She was almost a child to him for he was nearly 33 years old now. And yet, she moved him the way no child should move a grown up person. Christine looked to him both older and younger than her actual age and it confused him like hell.

She was sleeping for over an hour, when he decided it was time for dinner. Tonight they would eat late with the hope, that tomorrow things would somehow settle down.

He sat on the bed and carefully shook her by the shoulder.

"Christine? Wake up, Christine."

The girl got startled for a moment, forgetting where she was and gave him a dull look, for she was still too tired to think or respond normally. He commanded.

"Sit up now. Here, take the cup and drink it bottom up. Come on."

She swallowed the soup hungrily and emptied the cup in no time. He smiled a little at her enthusiasm and took it from her. Growing sleepy in an instant, Christine lay down again with painful expression which boiled up his rage even more. The poor girl looked at him with fear when she saw him frowning. In the weak light he looked menacing to her again.

"Listen, I know you want nothing more than to fall asleep again, but there is something we must do."

She heard his hesitation, and tried to prepare herself for the worst. Christine wished she had any idea of what was to come. It was going to hurt for sure. He was looking anywhere but in her eyes which made her even more nervous. She saw him clench his teeth. Was it really going to be that awful? She gathered all the bravery she could muster and said.

"I know, and I am ready."

He looked at her rather surprised, and stayed muted for awhile. Christine was so nervous and ready to faint, if this silence was to continue a little longer. She looked at the window and whispered.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I ... I need to see, I mean to check your body. To be sure you are not damaged more seriously than it looks."

As he spoke her eyes lifted to him and he was blushing. It looked strange on a grown up man. The girl understood what he meant, and began to blush herself. He wanted to see her naked. Nobody had ever seen her naked after her mother passed away, even her father. He had always insisted it was the most shameful of all things to do. She was not allowed to walk in her underwear only, outside her room.

Christine felt embarrassed. So that was it? Or part of it? And why did he use such an excuse? Christine knew she would be cured in a couple of days. Her dad always said, she was healing fast like a street dog, and he was right.

She tried to postpone it a little.

"But I feel much better now. I will be fine till tomorrow, really."

"I am sorry Christine, but I have to judge it for myself. It will be quick, I promise, then you can go to sleep.

When she began to undress, he quickly turned around. It must be terrible for her, especially if the bastards have done more than just beaten her. He had seen her face and knew, strikes with such power can easily damage her inside. She looked so fragile. Christine was still in shock and her assessment was of little value. Her trembling voice startled him.

"Do you want me to remove everything?"

She was dead scared now. God, how much he hated himself for that. For all of it. By the state of her bruises, it had happened not today, but yesterday. He could of prevented it somehow. Instead, he was giving her hard time again with his demands. Damned freak!

"No! Of course not." - He waited for a minute more. - "May I see now?"

The girl was sitting on the bed, shaking from dread as much as from exhaustion.

What was she thinking? She obviously believed him to be like the men, who did that to her. He slowly turned to her and felt so monstrous, when he met her terrified gaze. She was sitting with her limbs close to her body. Christine wore white panties and a little white bra.

"It is not going to hurt, I just want to see. Lie down, and stretch out your feet and arms. Yes, like that."

She was flat on the bed her face turned away from him, arms slightly trembling. He only wanted to see? Really? But that wasn't painful at all.

"Now, imagine I am a doctor, OK?"

"Are you?"

"No, but I know enough to decide if you need to go to a hospital. Now, you see the big blue spot on your belly. I want you to press your palm on it firmly. It will hurt. Is your belly hard or soft?"

"I don't know. Why ...don't you come and check for yourself?"

It took Christine quite a lot to say that. She didn't feel like encouraging him to go further, but his unwillingness to touch, panicked her. It wasn't supposed to be that way. May be he didn't want her to stay with him. May be he didn't like her now, for she knew how ugly her face was at the moment. He would make her go back on the next morning. Christine looked at him and saw the anger in his eyes. He looked so much like her dad the previous night. She felt sick. If he was to beat her now she would die for sure.

The man shook his head.

"You have been through enough pain and fear, and that is not pleasant at all, I know it. There is no need to add any more suffering. OK, I can see from here your belly is soft and therefore not injured internally. - He prayed to God for his observation to be correct. There was noway, he was putting his hands on that terrified girl tonight. - The hits on your legs will have no consequences, but they will heal slowly. Now, turn left and move your hand aside."

She did as she was told, then to the right, and he saw no dangerous bruises on neither sides.

"Lie on your stomach, and we are almost done."

Christine began to relax. It was humiliating in a way, but he seemed truly concerned about her. And no pain was added, like he promised. His voice was low and calm. He would probably let her stay for a couple of days after all.

All of a sudden he cursed and came closer. Christine covered her head prepared for a blow. He cursed again.

"Christine, there is an open wound on your back and it is bleeding a little."

She turned her face to him alarmed.

"Do I need to go to a hospital? I really don't want to bother you more."

She began to raise, but suddenly felt one of his fingers on her back, firmly pressing her body down again. There was no brutality in the move, just strength and steadiness.

"I can clean it, and put a plaster on it, if you allow me. It is not very deep. It only, " - he put a finger close to the wound - "look strange. I can't tell how it was done. Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head as if to push away an unpleasant thought.

"Can I clean it, Christine? I will be careful, I promise."

"OK."

He went out and brought all things necessary.

"Come closer, please. I would not touch you anywhere else, you have my word."

Christine wanted to ask why but sat quietly. She wanted to ask if she had to go in the morning but was too afraid of the answer. She didn't move while he did his work. It was not bad at all, especially after today. It felt like a caress. His gentle fingers calmed her down completely.

After he finished, he stood up from the bed.

"You are ready. No, no..." - When he saw her reach out for her clothes. Then he quickly continued - "Those are dirty. I will give you a pajamas of mine and tomorrow we will think of something better."

"But I ..."

He had turned away from her and was digging in the commode, at the other end of the room. Besides the bed and the commode, there was only a table and one more, unfamiliar object in the room. It was black and long, and had a funny chair in front of it. The man found the particular pajamas and tossed it in her hands.

"Here it is, and now go to sleep."

Christine put it on and moved to the other end of the bed. She had never seen a bed so large even in the movies. Still, she wanted to leave more space between them tonight, as she felt both excited and calmed by his presence. It was strange. She caressed the sleeve of the pajamas and closed her eyes.

He was sitting by the table, looking straight ahead, until her slow breathing assured him she was asleep.

The man spent most of the night watching the fragile child in his bed. He sat frozen, while rage and despair ate a hole in his mind and filled it with blind madness. His head, full of questions and choices. Christine lay curled in a ball at the farther end of the bed, as if afraid he would harm her. The total lack of trust was painful but understandable. He wanted to know if she was sexually abused but dared not ask. He had looked carefully at her legs and underwear for any traces of intrusion but found none. Instead, his own mouth had filled with saliva at the look of the semi naked beautiful girl in his bed. She was so thin and still so beautiful. Gladly, Christine lay with her eyes closed and was spared the view of blatant lust in his eyes. He felt so disgusted by himself then. The man wanted to be like an elder brother, or a father to the child, but obviously it was not the case. For he was a freak, capable of twisted and perverse emotions only.

He knew, he had missed something important during the evening and now it came in focus. He didn't ask Christine if he should take her home. Her home. In his absence of thoughts in the first few minutes, he could only think of the one safe place he knew. He would ask in the morning about her family, may be get her there. Perhaps her mother was sick of worry by now. Quietly, he searched her clothes but found no clues. He would have to leave it for the next day. The guy should do whatever was best for Christine, not for him. He wanted to keep her here with him, for the rest of his life, but that was a false dream when she had a family somewhere. He wanted to protect her and win her trust. But she deserved much better. He would help her to his best and let her go. As a freak he didn't deserve her around.

His voices were strangely quiet that night.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Christine slept through the morning and awoke in the early afternoon, for the call of nature could not be denied anymore. She sat up, quickly recalling what happened the previous night. Some of the pain had subsided bringing curiosity forward. The other half of the bed was smooth and she had the feeling he didn't sleep there during the night. That was odd, since he showed no intention to take any advantage of her. There was no problem to share a bed with a guy for sleeping. She used to do that when she was younger, when a friend of her dad's was often visiting them. They both slept in her bed, because that was the only way, the three of them could fit. There was no problem, except sometimes he would poke her with a finger in the back waking her up.

She took her time, to go over the room. Brown curtains covered the windows, leaving most of the light outside. The room was neither clean nor dirty, something she could take care of later.

He was sleeping in one of the chairs, his legs lifted on the other. Such a funny guy. He had taken her to his home, had fed her and had cleaned her wound and then instead of going to bed he had slept on a chair? Weird but cool. She smiled at him. If he would allow her to stay here for a week, Christine could prove herself valuable. She knew how. She had already proven worthy of her dad.

There was a plate filled with food on the table. Christine wished she could have some now. But first, she needed to find the lavatory. The girl left the bed and put on her sneakers. She opened her mouth to call him, and realized there was no name attached to that man. He didn't tell her, and she knew too well to ask. "The name is given, not taken. Never ask for a man's name baby, it's impolite." That were her father's words and she was staying true to them.

The girl approached the sleeping figure.

"Hello? Sir?" - she got hold of his arm and tried to shake it. It was unexpectedly heavy, for such a thin man.

"Mister?" - she tried harder, and he woke up with a start.

"Yes! What?"

He had never before woken up to a more bizarre view. He saw Pierrot, with his too long sleeves, wearing a mask of half sad half smiling face. Unfortunately, the face was half smiling due to punches and not of its own will. His smile faded away when he remembered. She stepped back wondering what was so funny.

"Hello, Christine." - he looked at his watch - "We've almost slept through the day. How do you feel?"

"Much better, Mister, thank you. Will you please show me the lavatory" - she hesitated - "now?"

He stood up harshly, making her jump a little. She said "now", right? It pained him to see her, react like a tortured animal to his every motion.

"Of course, come with me."

He led her downstairs to the lavatory. She was in a haste so he simply pointed up and said while leaving.

"The breakfast/lunch is waiting for you when you are ready."

Christine used the opportunity to look at the bluish places on her body. The pain was even duller now, and she was feeling extremely hungry. She was thinking of the tasty soup from last night. The girl stood there in a vain attempt to collect her thoughts. So much depended on him. He was not in a hurry to rid himself off her, but then why did he sleep on the chairs. Christine suddenly realized not only her clothes were dirty. She smelled of sweat and blood. Maybe he got so disgusted after removing her shoes, he didn't want to touch her at all. She remembered how he used only one finger to treat her wound and felt totally ashamed. Christine looked at the mirror and found her face repulsive. Now she wanted nothing, but to leave.

He had just started to check her up, when she entered the room. The girl was looking at her feet unable to find her words. To him she definitely looked better and yet, still so sad and scared. He wanted to embrace her, to tell her she was going to be fine but didn't dare to. Lust was in charge of his brain from the moment she woke him up. The Devil was smiling, encouraging him to demand his reward.

Finally she met his eyes.

When looking at her so blankly, it was impossible for her to predict his next move. She had seen him angry and sad and even pleased but never happy. Not for a brief moment there was a genuine smile on his face. A half grin at best.

"I am so grateful for everything you did for me, but I really have to go now. Just give me back my clothes and I will be gone in a minute." - She kept her eyes on his studding his reaction.

She wanted to leave him already? A distant whisper echoed in his head. The man hid his disappointment and eyed her coldly.

"Impossible. Your clothes are still wet." - at her astonished look he explained further. - "They needed a bath, so I washed them. They will not be ready soon.."

Christine wanted to sink into the ground. He couldn't stand her clothes so much, he spent time washing them. No wonder, he stayed away from the bed. He will probably throw his nice pajamas and soft sheets away when she leaves.

"Come here, Christine."

He put one of the chairs in front of the plate and waved her to approach. His voice was easy but imperative. The girl came slowly looking expectantly for him to step back in disgust, and when he did she was desperate. Christine studied the plate and smiled unconsciously. There were so many different things, it seemed like a colorful picture. She looked shyly at him again and when he motioned a "help yourself" gesture, she attacked the food.

The man sat on the bed, as far away as he could, looking at her. He waited patiently, partially enjoying the view. The way she used her fingers instead of the fork made him sick of desire and he was grateful, for a life time of practicing the face of indifference, had made him a professional. During the night he succeeded in locking his rage deeper and was now prepared for the conversation to follow. He was curious, how much she would manage to eat.

Christine halted after no more than 5 minutes leaving 3/4 of the food untouched.

"You don't like it. "- though he knew that was not true.

She looked at him with fear, for again she had displeased him. Her tummy was full like never before.

"No, I like it, really, it is just too much."

Christine felt sleepy then, and all she wanted was to curl up on that wonderful warm bed, and to drift away. Instead, she came to the bed in question and started removing the sheets and her pillow. This caught him off guard. What the fuck?

"What... what are you doing? Stop!" - He took the sheets from her hands.

She looked at him puzzled, too sleepy to be scared. Out of nowhere came the yearning to relax her head on his chest, then it was gone.

He took in a deep breath. Patience!

"Christine. Do you sleep in new sheets every night?

"No, how can I."

"Neither do I. What are you doing, then?"

"You were very kind to clean my clothes, now I will wash the sheets, surely they are dirty enough, after I slept in."

She tried to continue but, he yanked the pillow out. This time she had nowhere to pull back. He was looking in her eyes with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"I washed the clothes, because they had blood on them, both the sweater and the blouse. And your jeans looked like a floor rag, which I believe, was a result of your adventure yesterday. Now put the sheets back, and lie down. I can see your eyes are closing by themselves."

Christine stood there blind, already sleeping. She tried one more time.

"But I feel so dirty."

It was more a cry, than anything. He led her back to the chair and returned to fix the sheets on the bed. Christine was looking like a sleepwalker, staring somewhere beyond. She spoke her next thought out loud.

"You didn't come to bed because I was so dirty."

Sharply, he turned to her and saw tears running freely down her face. The dam had finally flown over the edge. She hugged her knees and buried her face down. That poor, broken child. The stranger felt his heart aching with hers. He took her to the bed where she continued to sob for a while. Before he could think of anything soothing to tell, she fell asleep.

He sat but nearly dropped himself in the chair, stunned by her words. Did she expect him to accompany her on the bed? Bloody hell! Now he was seriously concerned about her mental health. Or her parents', or her friends'. May be she was just dreaming of somebody else. Her words somehow washed away his arousal, and left tiredness instead. Damn girl! Whatever, it was a plain-spoken invitation. She would be sleeping for an hour at least, which would give him enough time to relax and be up by the time she awoke. This was the only bed in the house, after all.

The man climbed beside her and sank his back down with a sigh. It felt heavenly after the chair. He closed his eyes listening to Christine's slow breathing and couldn't help but think if there was anything else she might allow him to do beside sharing a bed. He was too tired to follow the thought to its end, though.

xxx

Christine woke up once again to find him sleeping, but this time he was lying next to her. She could easily reach out and touch him. The girl studied the man as the last daylight faded away. What made him change his mind? She could still feel the sweaty, bloody smell emanating from her body. Looking at the black circles around his eyes she decided he was just too tired. In the twilight it seemed he had no eyes only holes on his face. Christine didn't give it a second thought for she had already memorized his dark brown, mind-reading gaze.

The girl spotted another blanket and used it to wrap her host up. Her eyes met the long unknown object. She had no idea what it was for, but it looked expensive. Christine went to the table where she continued her work on the food plate. Some of the stuff there, she ate for the first time but she liked all of it. This time she was careful and chew slowly thankful to be alone for a while..

It was so quiet here. There was no TV so may be he didn't like movies. Christine tried to imagine a life in that house and realized, she would have to clean and wash all the time. It was such a big house. At home, she always managed to keep a little time for herself and for the movies. She would sit there, travel to distant countries and see so many happy people. Some women reminded her of her mother and she would try to touch their faces on the TV screen. As she stood in the dusk covered with silence she saw the face of her mother and tears were ready to wash her face again. The girl took a deep breath, as she remembered how angry her father would be if he caught her crying for her mommy. He would say she was in a better world now so tears were unnecessary. Christine believed with all her heart, her mommy was in a beautiful place somewhere, but she missed her the same. The upset girl looked at the sleeping man. He seemed sad but easy, and she asked herself if he would mind if she cried a little for her mother now.

She knew, he would not.

It was completely dark when Christine sat quietly in front of the window, found a place between the curtains and looked at the vivid lights of the city below. She let her tears run as long as they wished to.

xxx

Something made him open his eyes but the house was black and silent. Christine's place was empty. Maybe the whole thing was a dream, half nightmare half heaven itself. The man felt loneliness creeping back into his life making him motionless as always. He used to lie like a corpse for hours unable to think of any meaningful activity to fill his time. Everything is pointless when you are that lonely. A well deserved loneliness, but still heavy. Even the voices were gone for the moment. He closed his eyes again and listened to the silence.

The silence was sobbing.

Quiet, almost inaudible sob was filling the air in the room. It had spread out everywhere, gone to the smallest of all spaces. It resonated perfectly in the hollowness of his soul. He listened until it threatened to consume his mind.

Oh, God of despair!

It was an overwhelming grief song not suitable for mortal ears. An angel was mourning the Sun.

The man sat up and saw the child in front of the window, distant lights reflected on her wet cheeks. The look on her face made him close his eyes -the devastating face of true sorrow. Christine was absolutely unrecognizable. It was a free fall, straight to the dungeon where he was keeping his heart protected and forgotten. The shirt suffocated him and he threw it away.

So much pain! How to stop that much pain?

**"There is a way."** The desire to erase her pain fitted too damn well in his familiar path of thoughts. **"You know the way."** The whisper in his head grew stronger. He stiffened to resist his longing.** "Your hands are strong, she will not feel pain. You will go next. The pain will be gone forever. No more..."**

He shook his head. This was suitable for him but not for Christine. She was perfect and innocent and could live a full life, unlike his. She deserved better. There must be another way!

Ignoring the voices he got out of the bed like a ghost and went to her.

The ghost never hesitated, when he knelt behind the girl and embraced her firmly, carefully avoiding her neck. She turned to face him and burrowed her head on his shoulder. With every inch of his body he tried to take her pain for himself, to transform it to hatred as usual. But when the man felt her tears running down his chest, he found himself praying for the first time after 20 years of silence.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Christine felt so lighthearted on the next morning.

She awoke an hour ago to something blowing air to the back of her neck. It tickled her a lot. An iron-hard arm was caging her through her middle, another one she was obviously using as a pillow. She remembered those arms from previous night. They came at the very moment, she was convinced she had cried herself dry for a couple of years ahead. They had somehow unlocked depths of sorrow she never knew existed. Christine felt permission granted to unleash those depths, and she did it. She had cried herself to sleep in those arms.

Now she was lying, savoring the sense of total security given to her for free. Something heavy had fallen from her soul. She remembered feeling almost as secure in her daddy's arms when she was a child. Almost. Grief and disappointment clouded the memory through the years. At present he would hug her only on several occasions she didn't want to remember. It was safe no more, for he was always so tense after her mother died.

Christine felt the man sigh in her hair and almost giggled. She didn't want to wake him up yet, for he would let go of her in an instant. He was so nice to her last night holding her to his heart like a little treasure but in a bright light it would be different. Then, the young woman had heard him cry as well, muttering words she could not understand. She knew men were always strange after a cry. Her father was crying a lot in front of her, and he always avoided her for days after that.

She hoped that gentleman would be different. For now she knew, what it felt like to wake up in his embrace. Christine found she loved it the most. Even more than the lady with the golden earrings. If she could wake like that every day she would give up any dreams of earrings, rings or necklaces. But was he going to let her stay? She caressed his hand and slowly tucked hers beneath it.

xxx

The man awoke to a tickling in his nose again. He stopped counting them after the sixth.

They had spent an hour on the floor and he had carried her back to the bed. Life in girls' body seemed to him so unstable, he refused to let her go, convinced something could happen to her during the night. It looked stupid to him now but he had kept waking up to make sure she was fine.

Now he felt unusual. His rage was gone. No, not, gone but quite subsided. He was calm and had the urge to smile. She was still here. He didn't scare her away. For the first time in his life he awoke holding a woman like that. He wasn't sure how much of this was actually real. Christine.

The happy guy buried his face deeper in her hair till he felt her skin on his lips. He couldn't feel his right arm but didn't care. He used the left one to pull her as close as possible to him. That new, unbelievable sensation of her body pressed full length firmly to his.

The man was considering to place a light kiss on her head, but just then he felt her move. She turned to him. never leaving his embrace.

Christine looked in his eyes and found sympathy, understanding and disbelieve.

The man saw the unending gratitude in hers.

She was heavenly beautiful. Close and smiling to him so sweetly. He smiled back lying there, for a long time, lost in her eyes, unable to move a finger. After 18 years of solitude, the guy got drunk at the sight of her. There was something from the quiet warmth of a morning sun in her eyes.

He suddenly felt the need to play his piano for Christine. To mix the two most wonderful emotions in one. The urge was undeniable and he gently pull his arms away almost falling on her from the lack of sensitivity in the right one. He went to his piano and opened it.

Christine was excited. Although he left her for the strange object, she sensed him even closer to her heart now. It was an invisible bond forged in their tears last night. He sat in front of the thing and opened it. It turned out to be a strange, small piano. He placed his hands over it and there was music. Such beautiful, beautiful music Christine had never knew existed before. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds convinced she had become a part of her most wonderful movie. It must be magic. She was like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, though this time, the hole was full of difficult sensations instead of flying objects. Every sound was like liquid silver crawling over her soul. One moment it had a cool satin touch, the next it enslaved her in a dark velvet prison of pulsing warmth spreading instantly to the tips of her fingers.

In time, she would learn the name of the composer but for the rest of her life this was HIS music.

He played "The music of the night" in the frank sunlight and loved it, like the very first time he had managed to play it in the dark with his eyes closed. It was the one song he could play to her now, the only one worthy of her presence. He wanted to sing it to her but found himself gasping for air. He had already put in the music all the power he could summon inside his body.

The man finished playing and looked at the girl.

Christine was lying on his bed eyes firmly shut, heavy breathing, blushing. He saw her naked and as sensitive to his touch as she was to his music. He could caress her with his eyes only over the next few thousand years.

She sat up and looked at him confused by her intense feelings. They were deep and mind blowing.

"It was incredible, Mister! So beautiful. So.. "- she didn't know how to describe it.

"I am glad you liked it, Christine."

"Like it! Play more, please."

He obeyed her, with pleasure.

xxx

The man played for more than two hours, when he finally decided it was time for breakfast. Christine had managed to ask a dozen questions, without looking too stupid and was proud of herself. She knew nothing of "The Phantom of the Opera", neither the book, nor the musical. He told her there were movies and promised they would watch them together sometimes. Christine decided he had a TV after all. The man played parts of the musical to her revealing the story. It was evident he had some personal reasons to cherish it and she felt growing affection to him. She liked love stories the most. May be he was romantic kind of guy. Christine was very enthusiastic about learning more of musicals and opera. She had always believed opera to be too complicated for her, but the way he explained it, made all the stuff fascinating and understandable.

He ended the matinee and brought back her own clothes. It was Sunday and he would have to take her home tonight. Surprisingly there were fear and plea in her eyes. The urge to cover those eyes with kisses confused him a lot.

"I want to check your back, please."

She calmly uncovered her back, all horrors from the first night forgotten. Under the plaster the wound looked healing. There were lighter traces on her skin. A thought flashed in his mind.

"Do you want to take a bath before breakfast?"

Her face lit and she gave him a wide smile.

"I would love to."

xxx

He left her in the bathroom, cursing himself for a tenth time of his stupidity. She had said she felt dirty yesterday. He should have started with that. Christine was too shy to ask for herself. Bloody bastard, to make her stay two days without a bath. She is a GIRL, they like to bath more.

There were footsteps behind him and he turned. She was looking somewhere to the left, her face half blue half red, still fully dressed.

"I couldn't turn the water on. I tried but... I am sorry."

She looked sad again. It was disturbing, how easily she was loosing her good mood.

"No worries , I will show you."

They went back to the bathroom, Christine too embarrassed to look at him. He gave her the telephone shower and took the bigger sphere.

"See, when you pull it like that ..."

The cold water washed him top to bottom, for Christine had turned it towards him unconsciously. She couldn't think of putting it away, as she stood there her mouth wide open. This time he would surely slap her. She was so silly indeed.

The wet man stopped the freezing water and gazed at her oddly. Oh, God her face! It said fear. He laughed out loud. She relaxed and tried a smile herself. He looked funny after all.

"Well, I need a bath myself. Thanks for the reminder."

He picked the telephone shower from her, and made an extensive demonstration of its functionality. Before leaving, he took off his soaked shirt and tossed it into the washing machine.

Christine's brows flew up at the sight of his bare back. His skin was pale and all his ribs were visible. Was that the same man who had carried her around easily, like a teddy bear? Her dad had more muscles than him, but he stopped picking her up when she was 9 or 10, saying she was too heavy. She subdued an instant desire to touch his shoulder blades. She had already done enough to test his temper.

Christine watched him go and averted her curious haze to the washer. She had seen those only on TV. Suddenly, caring for the big house wasn't that monstrous anymore. The girl felt excited and sincerely wished to convince him she could be useful. She went under the stream and let the water caress her for a while. Her mind was randomly attacked by visions of his embrace, his skinny back and the feelings his music had brought to life.

xxx

Christine heard him downstairs and went there, determined to prove valuable. The man had a black t-shirt on, that made him look even more pale. He was making a mess on the kitchen table.

"Let me prepare the breakfast, please."

"No way! You are my guest, Christine." - she looked disappointed and he added - But you can help.

There was a smile on her face then. Was it full of hope? Her hair smelled of his shower gel. She surely was a strange creature. The girl stood at the table looking at him expectantly. He kept remaining himself he was cooking now, and tried to stay focused. It was a rare experience anyway, and he didn't want to get distracted. He lost almost an hour trying to remember what was suitable for breakfast. The man would do traditional. He would not make a fool of himself, in front of Christine.

"There in the cupboard is the salt. Bring it here."

Christine opened the door and found three big metal jars in. One of them was sugar obviously, but the other two looked the same. There was something written on every jar. She felt panic rising in her throat.

"It has a label on it. Come on."

He felt with his back how she froze. Was he rude to her? He sighed and went to see. The man took the salt jar and handed it to her.

"Here."

She nodded hesitantly her eyes distant.

"Hey, it is OK. When I say, I want you to put half a spoon in the pot, right?"

She nodded again still distracted.

All hope had gone. Everything had a label in the cupboard. She could not handle it, not this time. His household was too complicated for her. Christine was never taught how to read.

The man knew something was wrong. The girl stood too quiet beside him, as if ready to cry again. That wasn't helping him at all. He was having hard time keeping his hands busy controlling the uncontrollable desire to caress her hair. With her sad face on, it was almost impossible. He finished the pancakes, served them and they ate in silence.

Christine was convinced, he would make her go now. She was too dull to be of any use. She wished she could buy some more time. Her father would be still furious. The girl shivered as she felt his fist on her face again. Someone took her hand and she lifted her eyes.

He had crouched before her staring intensely at her face.

"Christine, what is wrong? Talk to me, girl. We can solve any problem together. Is it about the salt?"

She only shook her head, too ashamed to tell the truth.

The man waited for a minute more, searching in her eyes, then went back to his place bringing out his cell phone.

"I think its just about time you call your parents."

"No! " - she jumped off the chair, startling him. - "I mean we don't have a phone."

He was getting seriously irritated now. His own inability to comprehend her, angered him instantly. They were talking in two different languages. He tried to look calm but his voice betrayed him as he growled .

"Don't lie to me! Everybody has a phone of some type. Give me the number, Christine."

She looked at him offended, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. His fury found a fertile soil in her heart as he saw it reflected in her eyes. She yelled back at him.

"I am not lying! Just because I am too dumb to read, doesn't mean I am lying! Father cut the cord two years ago, because I was listening to the stories all the time."

He slowly put his handy down, stunned. His fists opened and palms pressed firmly on the table feeling like he was going to have a heart attack. That was why she smelled of shower gel instead of shampoo. And she could not distinguish the salt from the white pepper. He closed his eyes focusing on his control. He would NOT scare her more.

It was useless. She was already terrified, staring at his clenched fists, unblinking. With his slightest movement she was up, running towards the door.

He went quickly after her, grasping her arm and turning her towards him, facing dread and pain in her eyes.

**"You know the way."**

He lifted his arms up to clarify his intention, then took a step back hiding the fists behind his body. She leaned on the door looking miserable.

A long moment passed in silence. Christine began to calm down looking at his thoughtful expression. He was still trying to take it in. She could not read! But how ...

"But how do you manage at school?"

He felt like his idiotic father, worrying after a mundane business like school, when the problem was apparently much more fundamental. He shivered from disgust.

Christine shouted again fighting fear with hysterics.

"I don't go to school. Father says it is too dangerous. He says he can't risk sending me to school ,then bringing me back in a coffin, like my mother."

He dragged her back to her chair and forced her down, not realizing her fire had transformed to dread once again. She was truly scared of him now. One moment he was holding her hand like a flower the other his grasp was almost leaving marks. His fists looked huge. It wasn't such a big deal she could not read after all. She didn't need that at home. She wanted to go home.

He sat down and held his head refusing to listen anymore. It was absolutely impossible. There was no way all of this was true. And yet, he knew it was. All the unusual things came to place. She was staying at home with her father only. The sobs from the last night, he recognized as postponed mourning from his own experience, were for her mother. He looked at her frozen form forcing all emotions dead. A stone, he was a stone. Cold, calm, trustworthy. His voice obeyed him this time coming low and easy.

"When did your mother die?"

"On the 6th of April 2003. A car crash."

"You were what, 7?" - she nodded afraid to speak. Her eyes wide and unseeing.

He was reading her so well now, he wanted to burn the heaven. Too much hidden pain and terror ruled her life. And complete ignorance.

There was only one question left and he was mortified he already knew the answer.

"Christine."

She met his eyes and froze again. It was tiring to always guess his intentions out of nothing. She was tired of being afraid too often. The girl could sense so much emotions swirling in the air at that moment, she felt dizzy. Maybe it was better to go home. It was much easier with her father who never bother hiding his emotions from her.

He rose and went to stand before her. Instead of cowering back she copied his movement and stood up looking at his stone face.

"Christine, who did that to you?"

There was silence, yet she never backed up from him, never lowered her gaze. The girl was sure the answer was evident in her eyes. She knew somehow her whole life would change if she dared to say it out loud. For a brief moment she saw hell burning in his eyes, then it was gone.

He moved closer and whispered in her ear.

"Did your father do that to you?"

A deafening silence again and a nod. She was shaking but no tears came down.

He was the definition of rage but found a tiny shred of compassion, as he dragged her to him and hugged her. The burning center of his universe flew lightly from his head and settled in the middle of her body. It clicked there with an echoing thunder, claiming ownership over her sorrow, exchanging salvation for vengeance.

Unexpectedly, her hands got under his shirt and collided on his bare back pulling him closer.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

He left her alone with the dishes, and descended to the basement. Heat was radiating from his body when he took an empty bottle, and threw it to the wall across the room. It shattered to pieces and he bent for the next. One after another, they flew to the wall, until there was none left. No satisfaction came, he was still furious. He put on his boxing gloves and went to the punching bag.

Half an hour later, there was no energy left in his body, yet the demon rage was still there. It clouded his thoughts so much, he had to stay away from Christine. It was not her fault, right, but she could have told him something on their second meeting. If her father was such a madman, she should have searched for help earlier. How could a man struck his own child? And so mercilessly. It wasn't a slap on the butt, it was a real beat up. This beautiful, innocent little girl. She obviously loved her father, leaving him with no choice but to spare the bastard. To destroy his honor, for he had sworn to kill whoever was responsible. The only one he could not touch. He went back to the bag and punched it and kicked it until he felt the mind and soul his again.

Christine heard glass smashing below, and returned to the attic. She had sensed his rage when he hugged her. It felt deadly and yet fascinating, for she knew his rage was pointed anywhere but to her. As if she was watching his fury and hate from within him. But there was also so much pain in there.

She waited for a while, cleaning the room as much as she could, without moving his things from their places. Christine stood in front of his piano, but dared not touch it. Was there a chance, he would play to her ever again? He was probably so disgusted by her and her dad, he didn't want to have anything to do with both of them. She have never before realized it was so bad she couldn't read. But her father had said, it was too complicated for her brain to learn how. And he never tried to teach her. Now the man knew, how stupid she was. He would most probably sent her away, after he was finished smashing. She was beginning to realize he would never raise a hand to hit her.

Christine was deep in her grim thoughts, when he entered the room. The man was in a bathrobe, his hair wet from the shower. The girl felt her cheeks hot and she looked away. An image went through her mind and she looked at him again. He was naked under the robe. If she could make him do the scary, awful thing to her now, may be he would be willing to keep her here for a while. The poor girl was ready to do anything, for the opportunity to stay.

All she knew about that was it should begin with a kiss. Christine wanted to kiss him the moment she woke up today, but she was afraid one thing would surely lead to another. She had enjoyed their peaceful morning too much to risk it.

She approached him from behind, as he was looking for something, crouching in front of the commode. Christine gently put both her hands on his back. She was close behind him, and he carefully turned his head back, not to harm her somehow.

Their lips met and froze.

Christine's untouched lips were waiting for his lead. She began to fancy the feeling more and more, and when she thought he tried to pull back, she buried her fingers in his wet hair.

He was abruptly brought back to reality with a crack. Her hands, unbelievably strong, were trying to turn his head to her, twisting his neck a little too much. For a second he let her continue succumbing to the voices. Such a unique, marvelous way to die.

The intensity of her grip became lighter with the depletion of her power. Exhausted, she slid her hands to his shoulders.

Unwilling to part their sealed lips, he lowered one knee to the floor and turned towards her, reaching for her body.

A firm embrace, a renewed grasp in his hair and his lips finally started to move. He brought her down to straddle his leg, then satisfied by her level of comfort dismissed all thoughts and voices from his mind.

He forgot everything. The fact, his last kiss was more than 19 years ago. His lack of experience for he knew nothing about kissing, hurting himself and his girlfriend every time they did it. The day he was forced to leave her, by saying painful lies none of them deserved. They were kids sharing a brief childish love, yet their separation was a grown up one.

The man was kissing her differently now, diving to the primal depths of his instincts, gaining knowledge form the purest source - his desire to intoxicate her with happiness.

Christine lost all senses, but the feeling of his mouth, telling wordless stories of princesses and happily ever afters. Like a skilled storyteller he knew when to make a brief pause, almost enough for her to catch her breath before unfolding the tale, literally engraving its mystery on her skin. The story went on, longer.

The roaring demon of his lust put an end to it.

The man rose, bringing her to her feet, breaking their body contact almost forcefully. He made himself stop, fighting for control, wishing she was a thousand miles away.

Christine's expression was changing rapidly.

She began to unzip her sweater taking a step back. There was desperation in her eyes and the dream vanished.

"I," - she was panting helplessly - "I will do anything you want. Anything! I will tell nobody, I swear. Please, let me stay here, just for a few days. I will not eat much. Please..."

She was unbuttoning her trousers, moving towards the bed, when he finally realized what was going on. She kissed him because she was afraid, not because she wanted to. In his shock, he couldn't find words to answer or stop her. The pain was shattering his lead bringing forward all his voices at once.

"What did you expect? No one wants you! No one likes you! Freak..."

The voices were mocking him, the Demon was hissing his fantasies threatening his honor. They distracted him from one another, at the same time granting him an escape. His vow to protect her.

Christine obviously had no idea what she was talking about, but it terrified her beyond measure.

He went to her, and grabbed her wrists, before she could manage to get rid of her jeans. It didn't matter anymore, all lust had gone. His mind was submerged in pain.

"You are going nowhere, not tonight. Christine... You can stay here as long as you wish. And what you just said, I don't want to hear it ever again. Understand? What you've just suggested was wrong, very wrong. You should never do that again. Promise me." - she was shaking her head, afraid to accept his words as true. His hold on her hands tightened. - "Say it, Christine!"

"I promise."

He took his clothes, and left the room. Reading wasn't the main omission in her education.

Christine was perplexed. Why was it wrong? That was what a man wanted from a lady, whatever it was. Before she could stay. And the kiss? Was it wrong too? How could something so incredible be wrong? How can it lead to a shameful disgusting consequence? Her young brain combined the kiss with his morning embrace in the bed, and left her embarrassed by her own thoughts. Christine would have felt better if he had started the kiss. Maybe he thought her too young for this. Because she couldn't read? Anyway, it was awesome.

xxx

The man came up with a plan, for the time needed to put a shirt and a pair of trousers on. He intentionally moved their last conversation aside, to clear his mind. He demanded his brain to erase all memories of the kiss. The pain was no problem, he was a master in dealing with it. A woman in a freak's life? Unheard of. The guy silenced his voices and sought out Christine. He found her in the kitchen, gaping at the labels in the cupboard. She looked so upset, frowning at the letters. She was beautiful too, but he dismissed the thought. She didn't want him, she just wanted to stay. There was a stab in the chest every time he glimpsed at her lips. He would deal with that later.

Reading was the first item in his "to do" list.

"Christine, come here and sit down."

She was sure he had changed his mind and was sending her away. That was why she didn't believe her ears when he continued.

"Like I said, you can stay here, and I will be glad if you decide to stay longer. However, we need to go to your place and talk to your father. Wait, I haven't finished yet." - She closed her mouth and sat back. - "We will do it early tomorrow morning. I need to go to work so I will leave you there for 7 or 8 hours. You will pack your stuff, and be ready to go. OK?"

She nodded bravely. Just a few hours with her father would not end the world. Reading her mind he added with a sadistic smile, showing all of his teeth.

"He will not harm you again. I will make sure of that."

"I can gather my things very quickly, and wait for you somewhere else."

"No. You will stay home, until I finish work. Then, we will come back here."

Christine looked into his calm brown eyes, wondering where all the fury had gone. She felt it right to warn him.

"I can be of little use to you here, Mister. I am quite dumb."

"Nonsense! Who told you that?" - But he knew the answer already. It took him every effort to keep his destructiveness hidden. He would kill her dad for sure someday. Not now.

"I didn't say you can stay here for free, though." - her easiness disappeared at his words but she was already willing to give him everything. And he was looking at her almost smiling.

"Here is the deal, Christine. You can stay, but you must spend your time wisely. How old exactly are you, dear."

She felt better at the unusual appeal. It was impolite to ask for her age, but maybe now she could ask about his name.

"I will be 16 in September."

He looked distant for a moment, calculating.

"You can stay here but you will study, most of the time. I will give you two and a half years to graduate high school.

At first, Christine could not comprehend what he was saying. He looked serious it wasn't a joke.

"No! This is impossible. I can't even read."

He was playing with her, but he couldn't help it. Her frustration so vivid on her face, amused him a lot.

"That is it. Take it or leave it."

Christine looked so lost and confused, he felt sorry for her.

"Don't worry, I will teach you everything, you need to know. You will only have to sit down and study it. Deal?" - He extended his right hand to her. Mesmerized she took it and repeated.

"Deal."

The most important thing was, she could live here with him for the next 2 years and that was awesome. Their kiss... The sun of hope was finally rising in her heart.

He stood up for the door .

"Mister?"

He couldn't suppress a smile, at the calmness in her voice. It was something new.

"Yes, dear."

The same warm wave washed over her heart.

"Will you tell me your name, if it is OK."

Christine felt sorry the moment she said that, for his expression changed to detached and sadness filled his eyes. God, she had to learn to keep her mouth shut.

"Hm. Actually, I don't like my name, at all. But you will need one, nevertheless. This "Mister" of yours is going on my nerves." - he looked at her with a forced smile - "Pick any name you like, and I will be content."

"But what if..."

"Any name, Christine. You can't possibly come upon mine, I assure you.

There was so much more, behind his words. She glimpsed an abyss of despair, so awful she forgot about it instantly. Christine suddenly remembered their talk at the piano, a few hours ago.

"Erik."

"Erik?" - He was surprised, but it was too late to take his words back. Any name he said. The man looked down and smiled to himself. - Let it be Erik, then. No more "mister" or "sir" or whatever. But don't expect me to wear a mask of any sort for that.

He was already wearing a mask, almost impossible to bear.

"Yes, Erik." - she was grinning at him, he didn't know why.

"Come, it is time to deal with your reading problem."

Erik led up to the attic and Christine followed him so excited she wanted to squeeze his hand. He liked the name a lot, and that made her almost happy. At last, she put the sorrow aside as she felt warm, full, and somewhat loved.


	8. Chapter 8

It looks, I receive one review per chapter ;). Here is the next one guys, don't be shy. Like it, don't like it - anything.

A note on the "learn to read" technique I described below. My native language is Bulgarian where every word is spoken (almost) exactly the way it is written. So one can learn to read it in a couple of hours without an effort using the "picture" method. It is nothing like English or French.

8.

Christine was sitting on the bed, trying to memorize the letters from the spreadsheet. It wasn't hard, but they seem to disappear every time she tried to use them in the comics. She was so grateful, when Erik dug his old comics out, instead of leaving her to struggle with one of his thick, picture-less ones. And yet, she was stuck with the first page for an hour. The girl looked at him, wishing he would come and help a little. He was sitting at the table, working on his laptop. Christine was facing his back, staring at him as long as she wanted. The girl was growing impatient. Reading seemed cool at the beginning, but now she was frustrated by her lack of improvement. Christine wanted to look at the other parts of the house. He didn't mention anything about cleaning or washing, but they were her obligation now. There was no other woman in the house.

Erik whirled, and saw her bored expression. Some people never became keen on reading, but it was essential she practiced it enough, to be able move on to the real studding.

"What are you thinking, Christine?"

"May I go to the kitchen, to get some water?"

"Sure, make yourself at home."

She jumped off the bed with a relieved expression, and run through the door. That made him curious, and he went to see her progress. The first page? There were no more than a dozen words on it.

Christine opened the door, just in time to see him frowning over her book. Her heart fell.

He looked at her searching for an explanation. She would regret it, if she was wasting his time.

"I am sorry, Mister. It's just...I told you I was dumb. I am so sorry."

Her sorrow was sincere, and his eyes softened. But she went on.

"I can go clean the kitchen now, or the shower room. You know, some of your clothes are for hand washing I can take care of that..."

Christine stopped seeing his eyes narrowing his expression going blank.

Erik was silent, carefully measuring his reaction. He was torn between the desire to take her on the bed now, and the need to get out of the house for a couple of hours. Anyway, it was impossible for him to do any work, with Christine behind his back. He sat beside her books and waved her to approach.

"Let us see where the devil lies."

She took a place next to him, and gaped at the spreadsheet again. Letters looked back at her, mocking her silliness. The girl felt the urge to tear apart the sheet, that made her so helpless.

Erik was watching her closely.

"I have an idea."

He brought scissors, a glue and a newspaper. All the sadness and anger gone, Christine was looking at him with childish curiosity, which made him grin a bit. A long time ago he used to smile more often.

Erik returned to sit beside her, then threw the newspaper in her lap.

"The alphabet starts with "A". I want you to search through the newspaper, and to find an object starting with "A". Do it."

Well, that was easy. Christine relaxed, as she unfolded the newspaper, looking for a picture. It was like a game. She quickly came upon a commercial, with big red apples. She pointed it to Erik with a smile, like a three years old.

"Bravo. Now cut it off, and glue it next to the letter on your spreadsheet. Continue with the other letters. There are other newspapers in the kitchen, you can use them all. And don't hesitate to ask about anything. " - He was walking towards the door. - " Is it clear, Christine?"

"Yes, Mister Erik."

He turned abruptly to her.

"Don't !"

"I am sorry, I..."

"Stop being sorry all the time. Think, Christine! That beautiful head of yours, should start to think by itself. And don't tell me you are dumb. I've seen dumb people, and you are nothing like them. Now what?"

Christine was looking at her hands in her lap. Her voice was quiet.

"May be I should go home. I upset you all the time."

HE had managed to upset her again. Not accustomed to making mistakes at all, he was irritated by his own lack of civility. Living with barely any human speech even at work, he talked only to command his dog, and on rare occasions. Erik swallowed his irritation searching for patience.

He sat next to her, and after small hesitation took her hand in his.

"Your father doesn't yell at you like that, does he?"

"No."

Erik searched for the correct words, simple but convincing. She had a point.

"You two, have lived all your life together. When he is sad you know without asking, right?

She nodded, slowly looking at his face, focused on his words.

"That happens, when two people know each other well. It takes time. You see, Christine, we will need time, to learn about each other the same way. It will take months, may be."

The girl was staring at his lips and saw him blushing again. She heard his effort, to make her understand. But she already knew, he was not upset by her slow reading. It was something bigger that bothered him.

He paused, trying to hide his annoyance. Why was she looking at his mouth, like that? Why wasn't she listening? He spoke his greatest fear out loud.

"You are free to go home, any time you want. If you decide to stay, you will have to read and write and learn much more. It is your choice, Christine."

Erik was talking quietly. He was looking at her hand, lightly caressing it with his fingers. If she decided to leave, he would lose his mind undoubtedly.

He was sad. Christine saw a shadow of the same abyss, she had glimpsed before. His hands on hers reminded her of the wonderful morning, they had spent in the bed, the music he had played. He could do many things with his hands, and yet he was never going to fist them against her. She thought about the night he brought her here. She was so determined to find a man then. What had happened?

Christine was missing her dad. Her face was purple now, and her body still hurting, but she felt no more hate. He was the only constant in her life. He was with her all those years, after her mother died. Her dad was sick. What would happen to him, if she decided to stay here? Suddenly Erik was a stranger to her, and she pulled her hand away.

The man stood up, mentally erasing the name she had given him, from his mind. He should propose to take her back immediately but he had no heart left for this. Instead, he went to the kitchen to prepare lunch. His mind was skipping steps, moving him ahead in time, when he would be alone again. The pain in his body, left him shocked by his own reaction. He pressed his hand to the chest, in vain attempt to gain control of his agonizing heart. Feeling ridiculously weak he sat on the ground and let time and voices do their job in his homeland of darkness.

Christine watched Erik leave. She wanted to ask politely, for his permission to go home now, but he was out of the room in a flash. She was confused by herself. One moment she was ready to do anything, to be allowed to stay. The next, she was thinking of getting back home. Suddenly, she felt ashamed when she remembered the deal, the way he shook her hand as if she was a grown up person. Her father always treated her like a child, protecting her from everything and everybody. Erik was something else. She was seeing him, like a big, strong shield but completely transparent. In her naive mind, she had thought every man would be like her dad, making her wash, cook, clean and some other, not very pleasant things. She had glimpsed the glimmer of her long yearned happiness this very morning, but it had come with a change she had never wanted to happen. Erik wanted her to learn to read. Was every man going to make her change like this? Christine didn't want to change. She wanted to go home.

She waited for a while for Erik to return. She didn't know how to make him take her back. He would be hurt. She had already hurt him somehow, and the feeling was awful. It left her hollow. He had been nice to her, he didn't deserve it.

Christine took the newspaper, and filled the spreadsheet with pictures. It was really like a game. Feeling better and curious again, she went to the piano and looked at the sheets over it. Erik had said the musicals are sang like operas, so it had to have words. And there they were written above the notes.

The girl took the sheet music with her on the bed. This time she checked every letter back from the spreadsheet looking mainly at the pictures. It was slow at the beginning, but she managed to read the title of the song - "Wishing you were somehow here again". The next word was written at the beginning, just above the notes and it looked differently. Intrigued, she made herself comfortable on the bed.

C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N-E

CHRISTINE. Her own name. Christine had never seen her name written before and now it was in front of her, engraved on the most wonderful music in the world. Deeply moved she lifted her head, completely forgetting Erik was not in the room. She wanted to show him. No! Changing her mind she flew to the commode and took the pen she had spotted before. The girl run to the bed and tore a piece of paper from the border of the newspaper. She took the pen and carefully wrote down her name, copping the letters from the sheet music. It looked ugly and uneven, but it was her first word. Her name. Christine felt proud and overjoyed, and the next moment she was running down the stairs calling for Erik.

He met her half way, his face full of sorrow and worry. Her cries brought him back, leaving him alarmed with no time to hide his mood.

Coming up the dark staircase, he looked dead pale and sad. Christine had not realized he was that much hurt. His eyes were black stones, expressing nothingness. She felt childish for her previous reaction. Her name gone from her mind, she tried to hug him and beg forgiveness.

He stepped back, desperately trying to cover his broken heart from her eyes.

Erik was moving away from her, literary and figuratively. Christine realized with complete clarity, she was never going to see him again, if she asked to go now. He would never play for her again. He would never embrace her again. He would not beg her to stay. He would accept her decision, and disappear in the shadows. The last thought brought her pain. She stood there, her eyes locked to his, with a dull ache in her stomach. He was all covered with darkness. Worst of all, her intuition told her Erik felt comfortable in it.

Regaining his composure, he tried to read her mind, but found it clouded by emotions. With the adrenalin gone, his body was left powerless, while his heart continued to sink to Hades's kingdom.

"Why did you scream, Christine."

His voice was calm, lacking any emotion. She felt cold emanating from his body, as if she was standing in front of an open fridge. In the nothingness of his voice Christine heard an echo of his pain. She needed to hug him, more than ever, and she took a step down, careful not to push him away. Christine went to him and put her hands around his waist. It felt like embracing a stone. Erik did not react for a long time. Slowly the cold turned to warmth, and he hugged her back, sensing she needed support.

"I came to beg for your forgiveness."

This brought him back completely. Deep in his misery, he had forgotten his vow to protect the child. In his selfishness, he had almost left her here, alone with her fucking father. It was totally unacceptable. Tomorrow he would take her home, but he would check on her every day. He would beat her father up, if he must. He would protect her like the gentle flower she was. It wasn't her fault.

The man put a hand on her head and pressed it to his chest.

"You've done nothing wrong, my dear."

His heart was beating strongly but very slowly, as if ready to stop any moment now. It reminded her of a church bell, tolling for a funeral. Christine kept her breath, unconsciously waiting for every other beat. His hand was gently stroking her head, hypnotizing her. Without thinking she kissed his chest, then leaned upon it again.

None of them spoke for a while.

"I finished the pictures."

"What pictures?"

"The pictures for the letters."

He stopped petting her head, and pull back to look at her face.

"Christine, ... I took, too much liberty on you earlier. You are not obliged to read or do anything, that displeases you so."

":But we have a deal..."

"The deal is off. Tomorrow, I will leave you at your house, after I have a word with your father. " - He looked again at her eyes. - "Or, I may take you somewhere else, if you wish."

His voice was calm and warm, but there was something missing in it. He was giving her exactly what she wanted and still, she wasn't happy. Christine was looking at his chest, trying to understand what was happening to her. She couldn't remember being like this before.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"No."

"What do you want to do?"

Christine wanted to do the thing, to fix his voice. It was making her want to cry.

"Will you play something for me?"

He was in no mood to play anything, but he had to be polite. It was early in the afternoon, and it was unlikely she was going to sleep any time soon. He could always drug her, but it seemed like too much effort at that time. Tomorrow was far, far away.

"Of course, I will. Anything specific or..."

"Wishing you were here ."

"I don't remember such a song, try singing it for me."

Christine was slightly blushing.

"It was on your piano. It's from The Phantom?"

"Wishing you were somehow here again? How do you know that, I didn't played it to you..."

She was smiling shyly at him, and there was pride in her eyes.

"I've read it. After I finished the pictures, it was much easier. I wanted to show you this."

She put a piece of paper in his hand.

He slowly moved his amazed eyes from her face to the paper. He couldn't believe it.

"You read it, "- she nodded, smiling at his astonishment - "and wrote it down?"

"Oh Erik, I felt so proud. It was my name, written everywhere on your music. I've never felt like that before. Thank you, so much."

She hugged him again for a moment, then looked back to him, taking his hand, pulling him upstairs.

"You promised to play it."

Thousand demons and devils, she was wonderful and even smarter than he thought. He could only pray, she would not forget it all tomorrow.

The man was led to his own bedroom, by the excited girl. She handed him the sheets, and he sat in front of the piano. Still grinning, she put her finger where her name was written, forcing a returned smile on his face.

"Can you sing it ?"

"The name at the beginning, signifies who's aria it is. My voice is too low for Christine's part. May be you can sing it?"

"I don't know the words."

He thought for a second. What the Hell, it was worth trying again.

"I propose another deal."

Christine felt uneasy, thinking how their last deal was still with an open end. But he sounded almost fine now, she could not deny him. She tilted her face, waiting for the conditions.

"I will play anything from the "Phantom", you manage to read the lyrics of."

Bold by her earlier success, Christine extended her hand first.

"Deal?"

He took it with delight, bent down and placed a little kiss on its back. His eyes were sparkling with joy, despite his aching heart. He was proud of her, nothing more.

"Deal."

Erik handed the sheets back to her. Christine was staring at him, surprised a little, and charmed by his attitude. His desire to play had returned, and he wanted Christine to finish the song, as soon as possible. The man stood up, went to the bed and sat comfortably with his back against the wall. The child was leaving, but may be she would allow him to stay close to her, one last time. Just a little more of her shine, to be preserved in his ice. Pretending to be bold he managed a wicked smile, when he motioned her to approach.

"Let's do it together."

Christine came and sat at the end of the bed, unsure of what he was implying.

Erik sighed, and picked her up, making her squeal surprised. He positioned her between his legs, pushing her slightly back against his body. Always ready to let her go.

"Now I can see what you are reading. Begin, please."

It took Christine a couple of minutes to settle down. It was unusual but comforting. And very close to a long lasting hug. His cold had not disappeared completely. It had sunk deeper, leaving a shallow layer for her warmth to fill. Christine leaned back firmly, wishing she would warm him up, as much as possible. This time, Erik was really helpful. He interleaved the process by explaining every sign, or foreign word on the sheet paper she asked about. Pointing objects with his arm going under hers, it was impossible for her to avoid the contact, even if she wanted to. Eventually, she stopped following the words with her finger, and fitted her hand on top of his, wishing he would not withdrew it. His hand remain on her belly, but he froze. Christine had to continue on her own, for a long time. Why was he always reacting like that? Touching, hugging, kissing. Every time she initiated any of it, Erik would freeze at first. She abandoned the thought, focusing on her reading. He relaxed again, right before she finished the song. The man made her read it again, which turn out to be a useless exercise. Her hungry mind had already memorized the all words.

When it came to finishing the deal, neither of them wanted to move from the bed. Growing bolder again, he tickled Christine, until she promised she would read another song before making him play. He couldn't believe his luck. She surely allowed him all this, too happy she was going home.

After the second one, he fired up the stove and played both songs a couple of times. Christine was singing quietly the female parts, trying to follow the melody. Her voice was soft, and surprisingly not very high.

On his third replay of "Wishing you were somehow here again", Christine stopped singing. Still playing, he looked to find her turned to her thoughts. She was thinking about her father, he was sure of that. Jealous of her averted attention, he descended to the kitchen to fetch something to eat. His stupid outbursts earlier, kept the kid from having lunch, but she would not miss dinner. After filling a plate with everything he could think of, he went back seeking words to persuade her to eat. Words never worked for him, he was doubtful they will do for her either.

He entered the room and stopped.

Christine had taken the books and stuff away, and now was preparing the bed. She haven't seen him yet, and he leaned on the door, imagining she would do this every night from now on. He tried to remember every detail, detaching his mind from his soul, assured he would not show any of his sadness to her again. He wanted to approach her quietly from behind, to embrace her and kiss her neck, to lie her down on the bed and fall asleep between her breasts. Because he was tired now, too tired to think of anything beyond rest. His soothing ice required much power, to maintain stability.

"Erik?"

He opened his eyes, and found her looking at him with concern. Was he really that exhausted?

Erik had fallen asleep in 10 seconds, leaning on the door. Christine saw his expression change from gentle to none, she was afraid he would evaporate in front of her eyes. There were dark circles around his eyes, which were not present during the day. His skin wasn't pale anymore, it was gray. She felt cold coming from him again. May be he was sick, like her father. A sickness cured by a hug? Christine moved towards him to give him a medicine, but he walked pass her and sat before the piano again.

"Look in that plate and eat something, there are no pancakes left."

She was hungry, and followed his instructions immediately. Avoiding the fork again, she ate quickly, listening to the slow piece Erik was playing. How curious, he was ready to sleep standing at the door, but not while sitting at the piano. She tried some of the unknown food, she had skipped yesterday. Christine took a particularly strange thing, and opened her mouth to ask about it, when the oddity of the situation dawned on her. There was no plate for him. She almost spat the last one out. She was too focused on the variety of the food, to notice he didn't keep any for himself. She panicked for a moment, thinking that was probably his last food. They didn't cook anything for the past too days, besides a few pancakes, and they were barely enough for breakfast. Christine felt shame and frustration for being selfish. Erik kept himself busy with her all the time, he didn't have time to buy supplies. And he never gave her the opportunity to cook, focused on her reading. Something was happening to her really. At home, she would think first for her father, and then for herself, often preserving most of the food for him. When did she become so selfish? Looking at Erik, Christine took the plate and went to him.

The man was deep in the music, where he could feel whole again. With no need to move his lower body, his tiredness had subsided to something annoying, but perfectly controllable. At first, he didn't notice her hand, but she called for him and he stopped. She was standing beside him confused and silent, and he had the feeling she was going to apologize again. He lifted his brows in silent question.

She handed him the plate.

"Do you want some?"

He eyed the food, then shook his head.

"No. This is for you."

"But you have to eat something, you may get sick."

"Miss skin-and-bones, when you put a little weight on, we will discus that again. Now eat, and let me finish that."

"But, Erik..."

"Did you hear what I say?"

She was looking at him stubbornly for a moment, then refused.

"I won't eat either."

The man fought the temptation, to take the damned plate, and throw it through the window. Instead, he turned fully to her and suggested.

"For every bite you take, I will play different music. How about that?"

Christine thought for a moment studding him, but shook her head.

"No. For every bite YOU take I will take one too."

She didn't wait for his answer. She took a chunk, and brought it to his mouth expectantly. She looked serious about that.

The man was glad, he was exhausted. There was no way taking this bite, without licking her fingers. A well known aphrodisiac, to everybody but to her. Relying on his tiredness he opened his mouth, and tried to touch his lips to her hand, as lightly as possible.

Christine, on the other side, afraid to drop the greasy thing on his trousers, shoved her fingers deep into his mouth, completely unprepared for the sensation that shook her the moment she met his tongue. When he closed his lips around her hand, she shut her eyes instinctively, feeling weak.

Erik observed her from behind his shield moved as well, but not nearly as profoundly as the girl. He was expecting the emotion and had prepared for it. His little Christine was innocent in every meaning. Her small fingers were still in his mouth, and he sucked the cheese from between them, caressing them with his tongue.

Christine stood still, unable to gather herself enough to remember who she was. She opened her eyes when he took her wrist and gently pulled her fingers out.

"We will surely die of hunger, at this rate."

Christine was so overwhelmed, she didn't see the joke. She watched Erik take the plate from her, and lead her to the bed. That excited her even more. But when he simply made her sank on the edge and crouched in front of her, she was disappointed. She gazed at him, questioning his mood. There was a spark in his eyes, though he was still emanating cold. The girl decided to try. She opened her mouth to speak, and found it completely dry. Christine managed a slow irregular whisper.

"Can we sit like before?"

He checked all his defensive mechanisms, before climbing on the bed and dragging her to him. She took her place between his legs, this time pressing her shoulder to his chest. The plate was positioned on both their legs, secured and easy to reach.

Christine was looking intensely at his hand, waiting for him, moistening her lips unconsciously. The man decided to tease her a little.

"Which one did you like best? Do you know the difference between..."

"All, I like them all." - She was growing impatient, which made his dark side grin evilly, taking pleasure in her sweetly tortured features.

"Really? And what about this, it is salty and has a sharp taste..."

Christine was getting infuriated. He had managed to stay silent most of the day, despite her attempts for longer conversations, and now he decided to tell her all insignificant details about making cheese. The girl wished, she had any reason to put something in his mouth, just to make him stop. But now it was his turn, she had to wait.

"... in France, they have numerous kinds of cheese, especially..."

"Erik!"

He never looked away, during his tirade, and his satisfaction grew to an ultimate delight, at her sharp remark. He carefully hid his pleasure behind offended face. Sighing theatrically, he took a piece and slowly presented it to her, making a full stop an inch before her mouth. Christine looked at him suspiciously, then parted her lips. The moment she leaned forward encapsulating his tips, he thrust his fingers in her mouth, imitating her own move. He met her astonished look with his dark one, and withdrew a little, just enough to study her reaction. She didn't let go, but used her tongue to free the cheese from between his fingers, licking them both simultaneously. He was measuring his responses as carefully as hers, on guard to foresee any cracks in his armor. With no more food to justify his presence, he was slowly pulling back when she licked him again resulting in an violent thrust, much deeper than the first one. Her eyes closed and she sucked him strongly, sending burning blindness of desire, shaking him whole.

Christine felt even weaker, and she was grateful Erik had settled them on the bed. She rested her head on his chest, waiting for the sensation to pass. His fingers had lightly gripped her tongue before pulling back, and she decided to try the same. Proposing the next bite, she slowly entered his mouth, too focused to notice the changes in Erik's mood.

He was tense, all his efforts put on hiding the mad longing, burning inside. One gesture destroyed every shard of self control he had ever possessed. He demanded silence from his demons, at the same time doing his best not to attack her lips and tongue. It was their fault, he wanted nothing but to punish them with his own. The man slipped his unoccupied hand around her wrist. Her body was small he needed not move to brush her breast with his thumb. He resisted, going back to the fingers in his mouth, openly playing with his tongue.

Christine was trying to capture him, but in the slippery environment it was almost impossible. She couldn't decide if she liked putting her fingers in, or licking his own, more. His mouth was big and she could play hide and seek comfortably, touching the flexible muscle as it moved around her. It was silky and strong and Christine couldn't stop thinking of the kiss. Almost the same sensation had filled her then, now it was only deeper. The girl dreamed she was brave enough to kiss him again.

The Demon was rapidly advancing toward the surface, as he took the next piece between his pointing and middle fingers. Only with Christine, he could do that without inducing the obvious association. She welcomed him inside without hesitation, even grabbed his hand to pull him deeper. Innocence or not, there were basic instincts hidden inside every woman. His vision was red, from the tremendous restrain he was forcing on himself. He permitted himself a little slip, and slowly thrust his fingers in her mouth several, times before leaving. Things got worse. Christine's clothes disappeared in his mind, and he stared at her breasts like a wolf looking at a lamb.

Christine was drowning in sensation. The last thrust almost send her beyond the edge and she begged him wordlessly to continue. All their movements stilled, she finally managed to sense her body acting strangely. The girl felt wetness between her legs. It wasn't her monthly period nor had she pee in her pants. Whatever it was it smelled a thick, intoxicating smell. Erik's nostrils were widening on their own, and she was somehow sure, this was due to her smell. The thought of Erik breathing her scent made her blush, although she wasn't sure why. She observed him again, and gasped at the vision of his blood shot eyes, buried somewhere in her body. He was not looking better, his skin even grayer now. Wasn't he enjoying this like she was? Erik looked to her more tortured, than pleased. He had let her do whatever she wished, never complaining, and she didn't cast him a thought after that. This was not true. Christine was actually thinking only for him, during their game. She had believed she was pleasing him, and she had been wrong.

During the spontaneous break, he conquered his mind enough, to gain control over his speech. The blissful look on her face gone, Christine was studding him worriedly, her wicked fingers peaceful in her lap. He was missing them already. He gave her an inviting smile.

"I am still hungry."

She was trying to find a way, to feed him quicker, without moving from the bed. Finally Christine gathered the remaining pieces on her palm and lifted it to him. It wasn't that much fun, but she enjoyed it, as he bent and took the pieces one by one, each time kissing her palm. After the last he licked it thoroughly to make sure it was clean.

Now, there was only yogurt in the plate.

Christine watched Erik, as he scooped up some of it with his thumb, and reached out for her mouth. The sweet sensation inside of her returned, with the slightest contact between them. Upon entering her mouth, he rotated his hand and placed his palm firmly on her cheek, caressing her with his fingers. She felt him whirl around her tongue, in a precise imitation of a kiss. He explored her mouth gently, no thrusting this time, lying over her tongue, playing with it. She sucked him deeper, until the base of the finger reached her lips. Christine closed her eyes, pretending it was his tongue, she was dueling with. She was getting more aroused every minute, feeling the wetness renew again and again. His tender caress over her tummy, was the tiny drop that made her come.

The man was watching her, incredibly pleased with himself. He was guessing her state of arousal by her blush, and the extremely provocative smell coming from her. When she reached her top, he ceased all motions to concentrate on his triumph. He longed to kiss her properly, but didn't trust himself he would stop after that. Not even Christine, would be able to stop him after certain point. It was more than enough for tonight. He gave her time to return to her senses.

"Christine?" - She looked at him no thoughts in her head yet - "We need to get up early tomorrow. Change, and go to bed, I'll be back in a minute."

The girl moved aside to let him stand up. She couldn't understand what had happen. How did they come from a simple game to this overwhelming sensation, which left her satisfied in a way never experienced before. It was a part of man-woman interaction and may be, the exact thing, that drew them to each other. Was she going to feel the same with any other man, or it was something unique between her and Erik? Christine considered it for a moment and found, there was no other man she wanted to do that with. Even her favorite actors didn't stand a chance against Erik. He was gentle and patient and strong, in spite of his thin body. And playful and he knew much more than she did. Tomorrow. Christine didn't want to think of tomorrow yet. She put on the pajamas and lay down, waiting for him to return.

He went to the lavatory to find his release. Unlike the girl, he was unable to come without touching himself. His hands smelled of cheese and he took a cold shower to clean his body and mind. This young woman was systematically demolishing the fortress of his self control. He thanked God she was leaving tomorrow. She was like a wild animal, not used to any rules. Everything they did was as new to her as it was to him, with the only difference being, that he knew it was improper. He took advantage of her so many times, in the last two days. How could a teenage girl be so pure of prejudice, and so willing to participate even in the most indecent activities he would initiate. She was timid and shy but on a different level. Was her sexual ignorance a coincidence or not? She said she loved movies and she didn't mean just Disney's animations. He would watch and listen carefully tomorrow, to gather as much information as possible from her father and her home. He would imagine snow, vast areas covered with snow and ice and would not hit him. The man fantasied several ways of killing the bastard, one he borrowed from his previous experience with dogs. No, no, they were all too quick. He had never tortured the dogs, even in his rage. They had been the way, not the aim. May be he could use a dog to emphasis his point, but it would terrify Christine. Useless.

He entered the attic quietly, certain she was already sleeping. Indeed she was, lying on her tummy, her arms and legs stretched in all directions. The view eased him by itself. He remembered the first night, when she had slept in a ball, fear evident in every irregular breath. Now her body was relaxed, comfort and security on her smiling face. Had he succeeded to find another way, to erase her pain? Besides killing her? There were no voices to answer him. He looked tenderly at her. His naughty little angel. His beautiful Christine.

The man took his place, careful not to wake her. He had just enough time to set his inner alarm on before he drifted to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

The following morning met Christine confused again. The girl had secretly hoped to wake up embraced by snoring Erik, instead she opened her eyes to the chilly attic only to be welcomed by the empty bed beside her. The tangled sheets proved Erik had slept there, but that was all. She traced her hand over his pillow and found it cold. He was missing for quite some time.

Christine readied herself for the ride home. Different thoughts were invading her mind simultaneously, making her unable to follow any of them for long. She was thankful Erik would come with her, for whatever her father would do or say to her it would not be a pleasant one. The girl hoped he would not be that furious at her still. In spite of everything she realized how calm and relaxed she felt in Erik's house. There was tension here, but it was one of her own doing. She was afraid to embarrass herself in front of her host, though she was sure he would not laugh at her. Christine looked at the piano and folded his pajamas gently, with care. She liked his piano, his clothes and this room. She was going to miss all of it. Maybe she could come to visit him one day. Hardly, for she had proven ungrateful to him and he would surely forget about the stupid, dumb girl before the day was over. Although he had tried to hide it, it was obvious that Erik wanted her to stay. The kiss was so full of emotion, his embrace ready to envelope her at the slightest hint of sadness or fear. His disappointment still vivid in her mind, when she had asked to be taken home. Under his guide she had learned to read in several hours. Erik knew so much more, he had many books and if she was to live with him he would teach her everything she would ask about. He believed she could graduate high school in two years, that she was smart enough to do it. All irritation from the previous night forgotten, the girl was anxious to learn more. Above all, she wanted to learn about music. Christine read the titles of some books Erik had put in a pile near the bed. None of them sounded like music books, but nevertheless she was proud to be able to read the titles without help. She knelt before the pile and began to open the books one by one. They were heavy, with thick covers and unknown words, nothing like the comics she came to hate yesterday.

"Good morning, Christine. You are ready to go, I see."

She turned to greet him, beaming at the sound of his voice, when she heard the same hollowness in his tone that frightened her the previous day. This time there was no sadness in Erik's eyes. They were indifferent.

The man had prepared everything for their departure, including himself. He was going to meet the guy who had punched little Christine and he was forbidden to harm him. There was a cold, crispy wind, blowing over his mind, cooling his fury. He hoped his will would prove trustworthy. He had focused on the only important point - the child should be spared any display of his rage at any cost.

"Let us go down for breakfast."

Turning towards the door he almost missed the look she gave to the books.

"Did you find something you like?"

Christine returned her gaze to the pile.

"I was just looking through them for fun. Like that."

"Feel free to take home any book you like. Its not a gift, I will expect them back, undamaged."

Christine nodded hesitantly. He had just said something important, but what exactly.

"You are very fond of them, I understand."

"Books can keep you company for days if you love to read. Pick what you want and hurry downstairs. We can't be late today."

Christine chose one, not sure why, then followed him to the kitchen. The smell of warm breakfast made her smile and blush with embarrassment. Erik was wrong, she was stupid. Why did she assumed there was no more food in the house yesterday? As clever as Erik was, it was more than natural that his home will be stocked with enough food. He would not be unprepared. Thinking of yesterday, Christine remembered their game in the bed, and for the first time in her life she did not regret her foolishness.

A cup of tea, eggs, butter, ham and toasted bread awaited her on the table, served for two. Erik helped her down, as if she was a lady and sat across. Christine felt flattered for a moment, but it faded quickly. She would gladly exchange his gentlemanly attitude with the more informal, warm treatment she had received the previous days. He was pushing her away.

They ate in silence.

The man forced his thoughts to fall completely on today's work. He had left unfinished tasks at the office due to his recent obsession and such things tend to accumulate uncontrollably. His intention was to drop Christine home and to spend no more than 15 minutes talking to the bastard. 15 minutes sounded like the absolute threshold for his patience. A single look at her colorful face and the fake calmness inside him was falling apart. Last night he dreamed about taking her father's fists in his own and squeezing them until blood start to sprinkle out of his fingers. He dreamed of smashing those damned hands in his own like two well ripe tomatoes. To cripple him and leave him on the streets was a calming thought, a daydream he would preserve for future use. Today, however, he had to talk with words only, and he prayed words would be sufficient. A hopeless pray for people never take notice of words. To gain their attention one must exercise brutal force first. Men learn only from pain and fear, that he knew for sure.

Christine glanced at Erik several times, trying to find a topic for conversation. His serious, targeted expression told her that he was deep in his own thoughts, away from here, so she gave up and finished breakfast without a word. The faint cold waves were a sign enough for his mood.

Soon, they were heading out of the house and looking around Christine acknowledged the vast garden surrounding the building. Trees and bushes all buried in deep snow, formed a little forest so dense it was impossible to see the fence which no doubt marked the boundaries of Erik's property. It seemed magical and while he was busy locking the door Christine took several steps towards the trees, just around the corner.

A sudden loud bark came from all sides, startling the girl almost to tears. The next moment she was pushed back and behind something black. Erik stood between her and what seemed to be a huge dark-yellow dog, still barking and growling at her. Another step and they were out of it's reach, while it continued to show it's teeth in Christine's direction. Erik's voice came loud and sharp cutting off its barking.

"Quiet, Shrek!"

He turned to Christine unable to find words to calm her down or to apologize for the beast. She was clutching at his waist, peeping to one side, observing Shrek with the wide eyes of fear. A little angry at her for leaving his side and much more frightened at the prospect of the inevitable collision should he had been a little late, he intended to lecture her, but changed his mind shutting his mouth up.

"You have a dog? Wow, he is huge."

Christine was trying to hide her excitement talking rubbish, carefully hidden behind Erik. The dog was sitting on the ground, looking expectantly at his master. The thick iron chain limiting his range of attack, stood as another prove of his immense destructive power. Erik knelt and patted Shrek on the back.

"She is a good dog, but trained to attack anyone who enters the yard without me. Curiously, she didn't... No, don't touch her, Christine, its not safe. "

"She is a girl? Why did you name her Shrek? Its a boy's name."

"I thought it was male, then it was late to change it."

Feeling much better and confident, Christine chuckled.

"How can you mistake her for a boy she is certainly missing some important male attributes."

Erik frowned squeezing Shrek's ears a little too much. The dog gave a faint cry of pain and he let her go standing up, turning towards the gate.

"It was dark."

"But..."

"Hurry, Christine we've lost enough time, already."

He was walking ahead of her, trying to dismiss the unpleasant memories of those first days when he brought Shrek home. They stood in the dark hiding place for nearly a week, while the angry people from the neighborhood searched his house over and over again. Eventually they decided he wasn't there and left for good. They had no evidence he was responsible for the killings yet they needed none to exercise their false justice on the local freak. Shrek was a puppy, and he let her bit his hand deep and hard to make sure that no noise would came out of her always hungry mouth. She was the only puppy that survived his wrath by chance so he decided to keep her for himself. The same man who killed her mother and all the other cubs took her, and trained her for his guard. It was ten years ago and the man was grateful the bastards learned their lesson then, and left him in peace. It took time and at the end there was not one dog left in the neighborhood. Every single one of them was slaughtered and placed as a warning where members of the household could see it. Atrocious but effective.

Deep in his thoughts he didn't realize he was standing still just outside the gate, quite contradictory to his last words. Christine was looking nervously at him tapping her feet on the snow. Her miserable sneakers angered him in an instant. Without a word he picked her up crustily and moved towards the cab, waiting for them at the end of the alley.

"Erik, what... put me, put me down. What are you doing?"

Christine's protests were too weak to be taken seriously by either of them and he continued silently to carry her forward. She liked to be close to Erik and convinced she was never going to have this again, she leaned her head on his shoulder with a sigh. The girl was going to miss him dearly.

xxx

There was that slightest chance for him to be away. He used to go out on Monday mornings but that was long time ago, and now he did it only occasionally. While leading Erik up to their apartment, Christine tried to decide if that would be a good thing. She wasn't sure of herself anymore for every step closer to her father brought back the terrifying details from that horrible night. Twice she almost stopped, ready to beg Erik to take her back but a feeling she identified as loyalty kept her going up. Her daddy was sick and he needed her with him.

Her silent companion observed the inevitable changes in girl's mood with a mixture of compassion and annoyance. He knew quite well the fear of going home to meet the unpredictable reaction of a non-understanding parent. The wide range of emotions one could see on the face of his mother included disgust, shame, hate, sorrow, disappointment, desperation. The father was not much different and the never ending regret in his eyes made all words unnecessary. The boy had tried hard to provoke him for he preferred any physical pain against the cold disgust evident on his father's face. But he was too disgusted to touch him.

Suddenly, he realized he didn't know the reason for Christine's punishment. It was irrelevant in terms of justification, but the information was important for gaining an inside to her father. He reached out and took her arm to stop her. Christine turned around and while he was opening his mouth to speak she buried her face in Erik's jacket and began to weep. He gave the kid his most gentle embrace, waiting patiently for the hard edge of terror to soften to a tolerable amount of fear. The man cursed his ultimate respect of her free will.

Eventually they reached the apartment and Christine rang the bell with a much too trembling finger. Erik squeezed her hand and to her surprise took several steps back and leaned in the frame of the neighboring door, blending in its shadow.

"Who is there? What do you want?"

The voice was calm and confident but to Erik's ears it sounded unnatural. So the father was pretending to be something he was not. The answer came hesitant and weak.

"Daddy, it's me."

The door quickly opened, revealing a middle aged man who's quickly changing expression gave away his deep confusion. In one brief moment he seemed relieved to see his daughter again, like any father should be, but too quickly that feeling was replaced by a barely repressed rage as he stepped forward.

Christine felt sick. She instantly recognized that gaze from the fateful night and quickly raised her hands to protect herself. The girl lost all ability to think or run, or even remember the man who was standing behind her. She prepared for the blow, weeping again from the sudden fright.

Instead of a hit, two heavy palms slowly landed on her shoulders and Erik's front pressed firmly to her back. As if the tension was sucked out of her by those hands Christine felt the most desirable feeling of security, replaced the terror in her body. She lowered her hands and lifted her eyes, curious now to see her father's reaction.

Erik studied the father with a deceivingly calm expression. He saw how quickly a mask of warm politeness replaced the rage on his face. The child relaxed beneath his hands and he asked himself if she was unable or unwilling to see how fake the eyes of her father was. Definitely unwilling. The parent before him was quite skillful in impressing non existent emotions on others. He was a liar. A shift in his gaze and Erik knew that he loved his daughter more than anything in that world. His own feelings were shining in that man's eyes.

"Good morning, Mr...?"

Still caught in the contradiction of his observations, the man called Erik stood staring at him, vaguely aware that his hands were safe only on Christine's shoulders. The man was clothed in dirty jeans and a t-shirt with few large stains. He was unshaven and his feet had dirt between the fingers. He smelled the distinctive scent of sex. Christine appeared unmoved by her father's appearance and finally gathered enough courage to speak again.

"Daddy, his name is Erik. He brought me back."

As if that was all he needed to hear, the stinking man stepped back and invited them in, the false of his hospitality visible on his face.

"Well then, don't stand there like that, get inside."

The apartment was untidy like its owner, but by the look of plain surprise in Christine's eyes that was not normal. She walked in the small living room with her mouth slightly agape. Her face was bright red when she turned to look at Erik, but he barely shook his head and moved his eyes to continue exploring the insides of the apartment. Small, dirty flat with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom, perhaps. All interior doors were open despite the fact that the faint wave of warm air was coming only from one of the bedrooms – his, most definitely. Either he had no sense of heat preservation or … or he had run to do something quickly, when the doorbell had rang. The smell of a recent masturbation was so prominent around her father, that Erik was positive he had been watching porn just before they came. He was alone and apparently not preparing to go to work. Back in his house Erik had tried to spare Christine all unpleasant thoughts about her home and parents but now, he was seeing that as a mistake. He thought he had left the equation with too many unknowns, until his eyes fell on the huge library covering the entire opposite wall of the room. The father was looking straight at him, so instead of approaching the books, he traced his gaze lightly alongside them pretending indifference. Quite enough, for he had already recognized the pattern. Christine's father was a clinical psychologist and that conclusion only deepened the sense of wrongness in his guts. Something was terribly off course with that man. Without asking for permission Erik walked over to a piece of low furniture covered with pictures. Most were old, and had a smiling young woman captured on them. He didn't have to ask who the woman was because her exact replica was just coming towards him.

Christine took one photo and wiped some imaginable dust from it. A detail, Erik had almost missed – all the pictures were carefully cleaned and arranged on the surface. The girl gave a deep sigh, put the frame back in its place, and looked at the tall man beside her. He haven't said a word since they came in. Christine was desperate to explain that she was in charge of the house, and it was not her daddy's fault it didn't look presentable. She was annoyed that he had stayed with this dirty shirt all that time when there were clean ones in his wardrobe. Erik was going to think they were some kind of pigs living in dirt and fighting over some garbage. He would definitely never return.

Erik decided he had wasted enough time so he gave the father one measuring look and spoke to the girl.

"Christine? Will you do me a favor? On our way here, I saw a news stand. Will you go and fetch me today's "Labor"? I will surely forget about it on my way to work and it is important for me to have it today."

Christine looked at her father for a permission and when he did not react at all she took Erik's money and left the apartment. Erik was going to talk with her father. He had promised she would not be beaten again and the girl had put all her hope in his word. The newspapers were close but she kept walking slowly, giving them more time to talk.

With the door closed behind Christine, Erik moved towards the father pushing him hard against the wall behind. He could not see his own expression but the grown up man in front of him was shaking head to toe, terror written all over his face. Erik grabbed his neck in one hand, then intentionally closed the other in a fist, right before his face. He stopped squeezing the neck, but pressed on the trachea. That would leave no marks and the point would be made clear enough. The father was paralyzed in his fear. Though he was considerably shorter than Erik, his body was solid, which suggested that in a rough-up he would put a formidable resistance. Yet, he didn't fight back or opposed him in any way. He was choking, and was going to die without a sound, in case Erik decided to press a little longer. Instead he released the stinking man, and in spite of his desire to move away from the smell, he leaned down, dangerously close to the other.

"I will be coming here every day, around 6 PM. You hit her, push her, harm her with words or action and I will call the social workers. Not the cops, the socials, and you will never see her again. Mark my word, I will make you forget the fact she had ever existed in this world. Make her sad, make her unhappy and I swear to the Devil you'll curse the day your parents met each other. Did I make myself clear? Did I!

"Yes! God, yes! But, ... why me? Why do you think it was me. She is my everything I will ne..."

Erik pressed his trachea again .

"Your kid can't lie, dumbhead, don't you know that? She was in so much pain she was crying in her sleep. Do it again, and you will discover such pain, you've never before imagined."

At last the father seemed to realize, it was no use denying the truth. He nodded his reassurance and Erik moved away relieved both physically and mentally. This bastard was playing dumb and it was becoming imperative to tie him in the basement and drag all the information from him. He had to get out of here. Only time could tell, if the father was going to behave or not. Erik look at the front door, and for once his wish came true. The lock clicked, and Christine appeared in the frame with the paper. She quickly moved her eyes from Erik to her father and back, looking for a sign of what had happened. Both men stood silent for a moment, then Erik started for the door.

"I hope you managed to get my paper, Christine?"

"Yes, here you are."

She gave it to him with the change, and her face fell, when he got out of the apartment. Any moment now, Erik was going to say goodbye, and to forget about her. If she was smart, she would know what to say and how to make him come back, but her head was blank of any thoughts and Christine felt disappointed at herself. Her eyes met the floor and she left them there.

A quiet cough alerted her, and she looked up to find Erik's eyes on her. They were gentle and smiling, and she smiled back.

"As I told your father, you should expect me around 6 this evening. Dress well, we'll be going out."

And without another word, he walked down the stairs and left the building.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

The doorbell rang at 6.17 and its sound run through her ears, bringing relieve and panic simultaneously. Relieve, for the last 17 minutes were the tensest she could remember, and panic because she wasn't ready. Ever since the clock stroke 6 she began telling herself he wasn't coming. There was absolutely no reason for him to come back. She was a nobody to him, a waste of time. He had promised, but unfortunately for Christine, she had been promised a lot of things in her life, and most never happened. Even in the movies men often didn't keep their word. The sound of her father closing his pocket watch every minute only made her increasingly nervous. He was checking the time more often than herself, and somehow this contributed greatly to her distress. The clicking of the metal cover sounded like a prelude to something ugly.

Her dad had locked himself in his room the moment Erik had left the apartment, and didn't come out once, during the day. The girl rushed to clean and wash immediately after, and was glad he wasn't in her way. The flat must be perfectly neat by 6 and she didn't give her father a thought, while polishing the floor and washing the heap of dirty dishes in the kitchen. She did the laundry as fast as she could, a vision of Erik's washer constantly in her mind. She could be searching through her movies, for an example on how to dress "well" instead. A familiar desperation crept into her heart when she saw how many clothes were waiting for her in the bathroom. She had totally forgotten about them in the last two days.

Sometime in the afternoon, she opened the fridge to see what was left inside. Usually, Christine was proud of her ability to prepare different meals out of almost nothing, but today it brought only tears to her eyes. She was wasting precious time staring at the empty fridge and time had gone dreadfully short. The one thing she really wished to do – to read at least two pages of his book today – was constantly postponed and getting close to never. Christine was feeling a growing desire to prove herself to the nice gentleman. She wanted to show him how grateful she was, how much she treasured his efforts in teaching her to read. Asking questions about his book seemed like the way to show how involved she was in her new craft. Earlier today, when Erik merely glanced at her father's huge amount of books, the girl realized she was looking at the covers with new eyes. They were no longer magical but distant, they were different kinds of candy lying there, ready to be tasted by her for the very first time. Her dad had read all of them already and he would know which one to try at the beginning. It turned out reading wasn't that complicated a thing. Why did he refused even to try? Not that she had been very persistent, anyway. She wasn't a stubborn girl, on the contrary she was always quick to agree with her daddy, afraid to show any disrespect. He was bigger and smarter and it was only natural, that he was to know what was best for both of them. Sure it was her fault, for he was always glad to grant her any reasonable wish. If she had insisted reading was important for her, he would only be glad to teach her like Erik did.

Erik. Christine looked at the clock, and panic raised inside her heart – it was almost 6. She turned the oven off, hurried to her room to grab clean clothes and literally run in to the bathroom. Thankfully, her hair was still clean from the latest shower. The girl took a handful of curls, and deeply inhaled the aroma. It was funny to smell like Erik for it was a pure male scent, but she liked it and so decided to keep it as long as possible. She smiled to herself - the scent of Erik's embrace would be with her tonight when she would go to bed, and that was wonderful.

Leaving the bathroom 15 minutes later, she realized her hands were trembling from excitement. She had decided to put on her newest dress. It was a little bit thin and over the knees, but she preferred to be cold, than to embarrass Erik in front of other people. There was nothing worse than damaging a gentleman's reputation, and a lady should sacrifice her comfort, if that was necessary. Until now, her father was the only gentleman whose reputation depended on her behavior and she had never disappointed him. Once it had been very cold, once it had been full of dense cigaret smoke and once, long ago, she had to stand behind his chair all night, while he was playing some card game with few other men. She had behaved as a lady should, and he had rewarded her with a kiss on the head and "Good girl, baby. Very good girl.". She had proven to be worthy of his praise. She hoped, Erik wasn't planing on a long walk outside.

The man in question was already near the apartment building, standing across the street, unnoticed by the people passing by. His virtual invisibility was ensured by his complete stillness and the darkness, which was slowly pushing away the weak daylight. Eyes were the only moving part of him, but they were carefully hidden behind the eyelids to a degree, to be assumed closed. He was standing there for almost an hour now, quietly observing the building and the people who were coming in, and those going out. It was an old, 5 storey brick construction, typical for this neighborhood. It appeared, only the first and the second floors were occupied, besides where Christine lived. The broken glasses on the third, and the paper covering the windows on the forth were quite common signs, marking those apartments as abandoned for a long time. The man didn't believe in coincidences and those dead rooms just beneath Christine's place were speaking plainly to him. The father was clever and careful, and there were thousands of ways to keep a dwelling unoccupied if one decided to do so. The son of a bitch had secluded himself and his little girl so that no one could hear any cries for help. The stinker was obviously overconfident in his power, omitting the one flaw in his plan. There will be nobody to hear HIS screams when Erik's time comes.

By 6:15 PM he entered the building and slowly began ascending the staircase, looking at the names of the owners and memorizing them. Each floor held 3 apartments and when he reached the fifth, there was only one door with an old label on it. He wasn't surprised. Standing before it, he read the names of Christine's family – Todor and Anna Steffanovi. The little girl was not important enough to add her name on. So, they had lived there even before Christine was born. A family property, most probably. Tomorrow he would interrogate the neighbors about the empty apartments below. Who knew, he might buy one of them some day.

The bell rang once, and the door opened to reveal Christine standing inside, saying something to him. He didn't hear her at all, for his mind was experiencing great difficulties in understanding, what his eyes were telling it to be true.

The girl was dressed - or undressed – in a colorful dress and black formal shoes which barely covered the tips of her toes. There were no stockings of any kind, and her legs were bare, way up above the knees. Her arms were bare as well, for the sleeves were no more than 4 inches long. The whole impression was of a shabby ten years old, ready for a summer walk in the park. At that moment he tried to convince himself she was exactly that because otherwise, he would be facing a beautiful, close to naked teenage girl within hands grasp, and that was a dangerous thought.

Seeing his reaction, and correctly interpreting it as a disapproval, Christine felt mortified and cornered. That were her newest clothes and if they were inappropriate, Erik was going to rethink taking her out tonight and probably forever. Uncertain, she glanced behind towards his bedroom. She should have asked her dad about this, but now it was too late. Her gaze returned on Erik's face and he was still staring. Well, at least she would be able to show him how clean and fresh her home was now. Christine took a step back and invited him in with a wave, lost on words again.

The gesture, however simple, brought him back from his trance and he followed inside. The man was absolutely positive he had told her they were going out, but maybe she had forgotten. Moving his eyes from Christine, he suddenly realized there was something very different about this place tonight. The intrusive stink was gone, and it was cleaner everywhere. He could even smell some food from the kitchen. Erik turned to see the child who no doubt was responsible for all of this. The man was amazed that someone so small and still in pain, could do such a tremendous work in only 8 hours. But it all came with a prize, and he saw how tired her eyes were. And sad? Before he could think it over the deadly hatred towards her father flourished in his heart, and equally quickly died again - Christine was in the apartment. He approached her slowly.

"You've done a fantastic work today Christine, quite remarkable really."

She smiled a little, and led him further into the living room.

"Would you like a cup of cafe, if you are not in a hurry?"

He stopped and took her arm to turn her around. Her smile disappeared and she looked sadly at him. He was going to leave now.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but I remember telling you of my intentions to take you out tonight. Do you not recall this, dear?"

She fought the urge to close her eyes and simply listen to his voice. If there was a way to make him call her "dear" again, she was determined to find it. For now the girl settled with a short answer, slightly annoyed that her hands were still trembling.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And you told me to dress well, and to be ready to go around 6."

"Correct! Now, go dress and let's get going."

She looked helplessly at him before daring to say.

"But, I am dressed, already."

He studied her for a moment and saw how serious and confused she was. He bend down to level with her eyes and said as calmly as possible.

"It's seven below zero outside. Do you really intend, to get out in this summer outfit?"

Christine nodded firmly, looking desperate. What wasn't wrong with this child? He sighed and raised to his full height. He wanted to give her a choice but it didn't seem possible at the moment.

"Go and change into the clothes you were wearing this morning. Go, Christine."

But she was still before him, clutching her hands looking even more distressed.

"I can't! You can't be seen with me like that. It's not right!"

"What do you mean, Christine? I've already seen you in them. I don't see any problem."

"We were alone then and... and nobody saw. Now they will see, and you'll be angry at me."

"What are you talking about? Why will I ever be angry at you? Now go..."

"I'll ruin your reputation."

He only managed to close his mouth.

Christine felt so helpless. She didn't know how to explain it better but tried anyway.

"If people see you with me in those clothes, they will laugh at you, and your reputation will be ruined, and I will be the one to blame."

She was ready to freeze to death only to preserve some imaginable reputation of his. Her priorities were dreadfully vexed, but it was a topic for another conversation.

"I can't care less for my reputation, dear. If you don't mind.."

"But..."

"Do as I say, Christine! I don't have all night for this."

He was angry now, and Christine run to her room without any other objections. Her clothes were changed in a minute and she was back before he could dive in his own thoughts again. He looked at her from head to toe and said quietly.

"Much better. Are we ready to go now?"

Christine gave her father's bedroom a quick look and turned towards the front door, collecting her keys on the way. No doubt she will be back soon when people start to point at her and laugh in Erik's face. If only she could spare him the humiliation.

They walked silently along her street for a while, before Christine gathered the courage to address him.

"Where are we going, if it's OK to ask?"

He laughed shortly and looked at her his eyes narrowed with amusement. She grinned back quite relieved he had forgiven her disobedience. She made him repeat himself three times, and all he did was raise his voice a little. Had it been her father…

"Though that is one of Freemason's great secrets, I think it is quite OK for you to know, that we are heading for The Mall."

Christine felt with her heart that he was joking well-intentionally, but given all the unknown words he was using, she was left uncertain on how to respond. After several minutes in silence, and with nobody actually pointing at her poor clothing, she decided to try his patience once more.

"I am not quite sure what The Mall is. Will you please..."

Erik froze at that and the girl was terrified to meet his gaze. He would punish her now or worse, he would send her home.

It was not the place or time but he knew he had to obtain that information as soon as possible. She didn't even know the most popular teenage shopping center in Sofia. It was either ridiculous or … true?

"Christine, why did he do that? Do you know why?"

The girl blinked several times at him before she understood that he really didn't know why. Such a smart guy to ask such a simple question.

"Because, I was bad, of course."

"No, I mean, what did you do?"

"Oh, because I went out without permission and not to buy food, just..."

"Just?"

"Just like that, to have a look around. To learn about things."

She clutched her hands in front of her, drawing his attention. Erik took them in his own, and began to rub the fingers slowly. They grew warmer but the trembling continued. Her face was pale and her lips looked sticky while she spoke. The girl was obviously very tired and for a moment he considered taking her back. But how could he sleep tonight, knowing Christine would continue to use the fucking sneakers if only for a day more?

Christine saw him walking to the roadway and extending his arm horizontally. He was hailing a cab and it felt so good to understand at least that, without an explanation.

The car stopped, Erik exchanged a few words with the driver and opened the back door glancing at her. Christine got into the car quickly, unable to hide her smile. Whatever The Mall was, they were going there and not back home. She moved deeper to make room for Erik, too happy he was once again closer. When the car pulled off, he took her hands in his and continued to rub some warmth in them.

Xxx

The taxi stopped close to a large building, with bright colorful signs hanging on the front wall. There was a huge parking lot spread before, with many different cars on it. The building was surely full of people. Christine was caught staring at the rainbow of neon lights. She had seen such before, but not so many in one place. Looking at the current of people going out through the doors she saw many of them carrying parcels of various sizes. The girl giggled to herself, when she imagined this was the house of Santa Claus and the good were leaving with a present. Her lightened mood was quickly spoiled however - with so many people here, someone would surely notice her worn off jeans. Erik would be furious.

At that moment he put his hands on her shoulders and said in her ear.

"Look up, Christine and tell me what's written with the big red letters over there."

She pointed with a finger.

"That one?"

"Uhum."

Christine recognized the letters and saw the word. She turned to him excited and repeated the name with awe in her voice.

"The Mall?"

"Yes, dear. The biggest shopping center in the town. "

Erik was smiling, waiting for her to figure it out. Her eyes were shining with pride and so much joy now and he wanted nothing but to keep them that way. She looked to one side thinking, then decided.

"We are here to buy a present?"

"True. Let's get inside."

The two started for the gates. Christine was so glad just to be here with him that she didn't even think of asking, for whom the present would be. She was going to see so many beautiful things inside, maybe even some earrings. As they came closer to the crowd, she became a little nervous and quickly caught Erik by the hand. He gave her a reassuring look and lightly squeezed her small fingers. They were still trembling.

Right after the gates the crowd scattered, and Christine stopped overwhelmed by the view. It was a city in a house, with narrow streets and big boulevards, so Christine grabbed his arm with both hands afraid of losing herself in the labyrinth. The air was full of noises and smells, some of which extremely delicious.

"Come."

Erik pulled her slowly towards the elevator. It was all glass and when it started to move up, Christine's head began to spin. That was too much for one day.

On the last floor they emerged and he took the lead again, heading for the nearest restaurant. She was losing color fast, and her grip on him was getting weaker with each step.

Erik maneuvered her to a table by the window and helped her with the chair. He took the opposite seat and leaned forward taking her hand once again.

"Christine, are you all right?"

She didn't have to answer, for he could feel her hand trembling inside his. The table was for two and leaning, he could smell the breath coming out of her mouth. Gastric acid.

"When did you have your last meal, dear?"

"With you."

More than 12 hours ago, and she was quite fragile already. He studied her face as she sat there, eyes closed, next to fainting. He called the waiter and ordered a sweet drink for the girl. After receiving a look, Erik advised the serving man to hurry up, before he decided to call for the manager. The drink was delivered with the expected swiftness and the waiter was dismissed coldly. Erik put the glass in Christine's hands and told her to drink it all. She finished the juice and sat back for a while, half-listening to him talk quietly about the shopping center.

The man could only wait and hope, this would be enough to make her stable. Slowly, the sweet crept into her, causing the much needed raise of blood sugar level to occur, and soon the trembling in her hands ceased completely.

Christine wasn't sure what had happened and why she couldn't remember how she got where she was now. After the gates, everything was blurry. She looked at Erik and his calm expression told her there was nothing to worry about.

"Feeling better now, aren't you? "

"Yes, thank you. Thank you for the juice too, it helped a lot."

"I know. Are you ready for supper. I wanted to leave it for after we got the stuff, but it would be better to have it now. "

With this, he called the waiter again and asked for the list.

Christine was looking at the restaurant and its guests. She saw how expensive everything was and naturally felt out of place. She tugged her chair as much as possible under the table and lowered her hands underneath too.

Erik knew exactly how she felt. His plan had been to buy her some fancy clothes first, and afterwords to invite her to dinner. But there was nothing he could do for it now. She had to endure this against his best intentions. The kid was once again sad and looking at her feet. Suddenly her head jerked up searching for him and her mouth opened and then closed reluctantly again. He smirked.

"Can you repeat that louder, please?"

Her face turned red and she blurted out.

"What is a Freemason?"

Erik let himself into a long explanation. The information grew exponentially fast with her asking several questions after every single sentence of his. They barely managed to give their orders to the waiter.

Christine's eyes were shining with excitement. That man knew everything! His words were simple and straightforward, and yet she was sure he wasn't skipping any details, just to make it easier for her. Sometimes he would even ask for her opinion.

On the other hand, he himself was impressed by the conversation for a very different reason. Every word, every thought she shared, convinced him Christine was intelligent and intuitive. It was almost impossible to keep such a person in the dark for so long and he was growing worried about the methods her father was using to keep her that incredibly ignorant. Her language was simple and she quickly began to struggle with finding words as their little talk developed. In his mind, the number of objects he wanted to buy her was growing with each moment, coming from clothes and going to books and hi-tech stuff. His watch was telling him they have to go soon and yet, their food was mostly still in their plates. He raised his hand a little and stopped her sentence a midst.

He wasn't smiling, he was probably annoyed by her constant blabbering. She had forgotten all about proper behaviour and now he was displeased. She was supposed to stay quiet, to smile politely and to speak only if spoken to. Christine closed her mouth and looked to the ground, promising to herself she would never do that same mistake again, if he decided mercifully, to give her another chance. She prepared for a scolding and jumped a little when he touched her hand lightly to get her attention.

"I think our food is becoming impatient and so are the sellers downstairs. We have less than an hour before closing, and I suggest we finish here quickly, then go buy the present I spoke about earlier."

It was very polite of him to mask his order behind a question. Maybe he wasn't that bored by her after all. Christine focused on her meal. It was tasty and more than enough and usually she would be quite happy to have just that, but here in the fancy restaurant she discovered that the real pleasure she felt, was coming from the man, sitting across the table not from the food or the place. Even looking straight in her plate she could feel him near. Taking a brief glance at his hands she began to wonder. Why was she so sure he would never hit her? Why? Those hands were going to fists in his anger she had seen that herself, and yet she was so sure.

Christine finished her meal in silence and looked at him expectantly. She blushed when she realized half of his food was untouched while her plate was empty. Once again she had forgotten her manners and had eaten like a hungry animal instead of a lady. Fighting her embarrassment, she saw how Erik called for the waiter and made the bill. Her eyes widen with the sum he payed – it was more than her dad spent for food in a week.

He looked at her and slightly raised from his chair.

"Ready to go?"

Christine got up quickly and followed him outside the restaurant. The crowd startled her and she quickly took Erik by hand. It was unladylike but she couldn't help it.

He led her inside a store full of shoes. Most were beautiful, some were funny, and encouraged by his relaxed grip, she began pointing and even giggling at some of them.

Erik walked with her patiently around the shop, noticing everything she was fond of. When they returned to the start and she tried to leave, he gently squeezed her hand and asked.

"So, which one do you like the most? I am asking about winter shoes or boots."

Of course, Christine had a favorite already. They were so sweet with that big shiny flowers and looked quite warm too. Totally unsuspicious, she led him there.

Erik looked at the boots. Only a woman can pick something like this. He took one and carefully inspected its inside and foundation. They would definitely do. Still looking he mindlessly spoke to the girl.

"What size?"

Christine looked stupidly at him.

"Sorry?"

"What size do you wear?"

"37"

Erik left her for a moment to find an assistant. Christine was puzzled by his questions? Why would he ask for her size when buying a present for somebody else? Blind to the obvious truth, she came to a disturbing conclusion that Erik had a girlfriend, whose legs were similar to hers and he was using her help, to buy a surprise gift. Earlier today she thought about him living alone in his house, without a woman to take care of the place. It was too odd to be true. Against her better judgment she quickly convinced herself of the existence of that lucky woman. For a man such as Erik it would be easy to have any woman he wanted. How many times she had seen this in her movies – a man asking a female friend for a help when buying a gift for his girlfriend? It was so obvious now, that he simply couldn't be alone. Suddenly the poor girl felt a grip in her chest so strong she grasped the shoe-stand to gain support. It was a horrible heartache, quite real and physical. Her mind was desperately trying to reach her, to make her remember all that happened in his house, but to no use. The searing pain in her heart was filling the soul with intense grief, leaving no space for reason.

Looking at Christine, he saw death on her face. A witness to several deaths himself, he knew the shock, written on her face was enough to kill her on the spot. 15 seconds. Nobody around. What the Hell?

In a flash he lowered her on the ground and covered her with his jacket. She was trembling and in spite of her eyes being wide open, she was definitely blind. He put one hand on her forehead and another on her belly, then looked up and asked the gaping assistant for water. The woman run out of side forgotten, when he slowly pushed down below her diaphragm. She choked and blinked several times. He pushed again.

"Breathe, Christine, just breathe. Slow and deep. In... out... in..."

The girl focused on his voice. She was falling, just a moment ago, but now she was anchored to his whisper. In, out, in, out. She wanted to move his palm to her cheek but didn't dare. He was such a gentleman, so kind to her despite having a girlfriend. The thought brought only tears to her eyes this time, for her soul was already torn and lifeless.

"What happened, kid?"

She was getting better for now, but he was anxious to know the reason behind this. Due to the late hour they were practically alone in the shop, besides the shaking assistant woman. If Christine had some illness in her, he better get all the information now. Ready to speak, he changed his mind when their gaze met. She was looking at him with his own empty eyes.

"Is she smart?"

Her voice was quiet and broken, and for a moment he thought she was hallucinating.

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend. Does she know things like you do?"

He suddenly understood. The word "girlfriend" spoken like this, gave him all the answers that he needed. She wasn't sick.

Christine saw him close his eyes and sigh with a smile. He loved her so much the one mentioning of her made him smile that sweetly. The girl looked at the worried woman with the full glass in her hand. She was thirsty and slowly licked her lips. Erik took the water and carefully lifted her body to sit on the floor. Christine drank and thanked the woman before she went away. Erik helped her stand up and slowly guided her to a nearby chair. He went to pick the shoe box up, from the opposite end of the stand and returned, while opening and unwrapping the boots. He knelt before her and without a word, removed her shoes and replaced them with the new pair. They were comfortable and fit perfectly, but she couldn't make herself like them anymore. Erik was kneeling down there, and she lifted her eyes, when he said her name. He was still smiling.

"I do not have a girlfriend."

She looked at her feet, without changing her expression. He tapped on the boots.

"Those are for you, and for you only."

Now he was buying her shoes, afraid she might faint in the shop and embarrass him. He was still smiling, still thinking of his girlfriend. Christine tried to be brave.

"What is her name, Erik."

He became serious again.

"I really hate to repeat myself, Christine. I don't have a girlfriend. We came here, tonight to buy a present for you, my dear. If you don't like these anymore, choose something else. Anything, Christine."

She was left speechless for a while, staring at the big flowers.

"Why are you doing this. You don't have to."

He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

"I can, and I want to."

He was honest and open and less than a step away from her. She hugged him hard, hiding her tears in his sweater. A present for her. From Erik.


End file.
